Ten Paintings
by DustyStars
Summary: AU. Marik: an artist recently moved to Domino in search of work and to escape his past. Bakura: a taxi driver who enjoys drinking and would rather do anything but work. After a chance meeting they leave with very different impressions of each other, can any good come from it? Thiefshipping with a side of Deathshipping. Rating will go up later.
1. Killing Time

**So I'm starting a new story! I'm aiming to have this mostly written within the month because that's when I go to uni, and studying physics means I won't have much time for writing at all. I'll be updating this as and when I can, hopefully I can stay a few chapters ahead of my updates. Anyway, enjoy this thief/death shipping story, dear reader, and if you have time I would love to hear what you think.**

**Note that the rating of this fic will be going up later.**

**Warnings: Strong language, eventual yaoi. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh, and I won't for this whole story so I'm doing a blanket disclaimer right now. I won't own it for the entirety of this fic!**

**Enjoy!**

_**DustyStars**_

_Chapter 1- Killing Time_

Marik sighed as his fingers moved across the keyboard of the laptop. He was replying to yet another internet advertisement asking for talented artists: it was the third one this month. The sound of clicking was the only noise in the apartment he shared with Ryou Bakura, as his friend was currently out at university.

Marik had recently moved to Domino from Egypt seeking work and intending to live on his own, but he had bumped into his old friend and Ryou had been kind enough to allow him to move in. The two had met when Marik had last visited Domino last year. They had both applied for the same job in a coffee shop and had talked before the interviews. Neither of them had been successful but the friendship had been formed, and both of them had been sad when Marik had to return to Egypt a couple of months later.

Ryou had been overjoyed to see Marik in Domino again, and had wasted no time in finding out how long he would be there for and where he was staying. When he had found out that the Egyptian was currently staying in a hotel, he had insisted that Marik come and live with him. That had been three months ago and Marik was still out of a job.

He finally finished the tedious application and sent it off with a satisfied 'click'. He had an interview tomorrow, but in the likely event that he was rejected again he needed some form of back-up. He felt bad that Ryou used the money he got from his father on the rent when Marik himself should be contributing.

The nineteen year old turned off the laptop and stretched slowly before looking at his watch. He had a couple of hours to kill before Ryou got home so he decided to go for a walk. The white haired boy had said something about some of his coursemates coming over for the evening, and Marik wanted to be out of the way for as long as possible. He could be confident when he wanted to be, but most of the time he preferred his own company over others, other than Ryou of course.

Marik stood and headed down the hall to his room which was at the very end. He entered, grabbed a purple hoodie out of his wardrobe and hunted under the bed to find his boots. The rest of the apartment was kept clean and tidy by Ryou, but Marik's room had clothes strewn over the floor and most available surfaces were cluttered with various items that could only be describes as 'stuff'. He wasn't exactly the tidiest of people.

He finally found his boots and pulled them on before retrieving his phone, wallet and keys and heading out of the door. It was a cool February afternoon with the sun shining weakly through the clouds and a slight breeze that ruffled Marik's hair. He shivered slightly: he still wasn't quite used to the cooler weather having grown up in Egypt.

After locking the door he set off towards the right where he knew there were more open spaces and it was quieter. The left path would have taken him into the centre of the city. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked and wished he'd brought his gloves, but continued walking regardless. He passed the tall, imposing building that was KaibaCorp on his right after about twenty minutes, and half an hour later he was into the parkland that stretched for a few miles and was practically deserted this time of year.

Entering the park Marik wondered for the hundredth time in the last few months whether it had been a good idea for him to leave Egypt in the first place. He had had his reasons for leaving: his father was a cruel man who took great delight in the pain of others, and eventually it had become too much. After his siblings, Odion and Ishizu, had been forced to move out Marik had been subject to his father's bad moods and drinking habits. The only reason he had been allowed to visit Domino last year was the promise of money to his father. When none had materialised Marik had been forced to return home to the abuse for another year until his brother and sister had intervened, finally breaking his father's hold on him.

That was how he came to be here, halfway around the world and living with the only person outside his family that cared about him. Marik owed a lot to Ryou, he knew that, but he sometimes wondered if the gentle boy was simply taking pity on him, an idea that made him feel sick.

The Egyptian wandered over to a clump of trees and settled on the hard ground beneath them. He watched as a family made their way through the otherwise quiet park. The mother was pushing a pram with a baby and the father was chasing a couple of other children, laughing as they went. They all looked happy. As Marik watched he found himself wishing he had grown up with a family like that: his childhood had consisted of fear and constant worry, most of which he still possessed.

The family continued their progress through the park, eventually reaching the gates and disappearing from Marik's sight, leaving him alone again. He didn't mind being alone, he was used to it and it gave him time to think. Usually when he wanted to think he would disappear into his studio in the apartment to draw or paint. That was how he had spent most of his time in Egypt- it allowed him to block out thoughts of the real world and forget, even just for a little while. His teachers at school had soon picked up on his talent, and encouraged him to practice and improve. So Marik had become an artist.

He had started small, practicing sketches, in a pad of paper Ishizu had given him, late at night, so his father wouldn't see. As he had got better he had progressed to larger drawings on bigger sheets of paper, and then he had added colour, losing himself in the way the colours blended on the paper to create new shades and add warmth to his pictures. He would draw anything, from plants and animals to people and buildings. It was the one thing in his life that kept him going.

Marik stared out across the deserted space. He was certainly happier here that he had been before, he was free from the constant fear that had followed him like a shadow, but still, he felt that something was missing. He could only assume it was due to him not having a job yet- he wanted to show the world what he could do but there were so many other talented artists that standing out from the crowd was a difficult thing to do.

Marik was unaware of how long he sat there, watching as the sun moved across the sky, lengthening the shadows of the trees until most of the park had lost its light. It was only as the air grew cold around him that Marik realised how late it was. He had been sat there for at least three hours without even realising it. Sure enough, as he stood up his phone vibrated, signalling a text from Ryou.

'_Where r u? Friends are here, hope ur on the way back AS FAST AS POSSIBLE!'_

The tanned teen smiled slightly as he replied saying he was on his way before pocketing his phone and heading towards the exit of the park. He didn't really fancy the hour long walk back the apartment, so instead called the number of the nearest taxi service and gave them his location. After being told he would be picked up in five minutes he headed to a nearby bench to wait.

Once again he got lost in his thoughts. This time he was wondering who Ryou had invited over to the apartment. He often had people over actually, he could be quite the socialite when he wanted to be, and was quite popular due to the fact that he would do anything for anyone. The course he was studying at university was Literature, so there were a lot of different types of people on the course with him, and he seemed to be friends with most of them. It also meant he wasn't at the university every day as the course mainly required reading around the subject out of hours.

Marik was just wondering what his chances were of sneaking by unnoticed (slim to non-existent) when he was interrupted by and aggressive car horn.

He jumped in surprise and looked up to see the taxi had arrived. He stood and hurried over to the vehicle, opening the door and sliding onto the backseat.

"182 Cordon Road, please," he said to the driver whose face he couldn't see. He soon realised this was because the man was actually looking at his phone instead of paying attention to his passenger.

"Hey," Marik said irritably. "Are you going to do your job or not?" Once again the man ignored him. Marik growled in frustration before deciding to tap the driver on the shoulder. "Anyone in there?" he practically shouted.

The man finally shut his phone off and pocketed it, before turning in his seat so that his face could finally be seen. Marik couldn't help it- he gasped. He had never seen anyone like the man before him now. He had pure white unruly hair, a little like Ryou's actually, and a piercing gaze that was currently fixed on Marik. His eyes were a deep brown with a hint of dark red that gave them an almost eerie quality, and they were certainly nothing like Ryou's. Marik found himself unable to look away.

He looked a little older than Marik, maybe early twenties, but it was hard to tell in the poor lighting. The man said something to him- Marik could see his lips moving- but the words fell on deaf ears.

Marik physically shook himself before saying, "S-sorry?" He was immediately embarrassed by the stutter but hey, it wasn't his fault his driver had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

The driver simply quirked an eyebrow at him and replied, "I said, 'I heard you the first time'. No need to shout, kid." He had an accent, but the Egyptian was too taken aback to place it.

"Hey, who are you calling kid?" he opted to ask instead, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

The driver simply smirked before turning to face the road and finally started the car. "Well unless you brought along an imaginary friend then you can assume I'm talking to you. Kid."

"Don't call me that," Marik growled. "You don't look much older than me yourself."

"Ah but looks can always be deceiving, can't they?" British, Marik decided. That was definitely a British accent, not quite as heavy as Ryou's but it was still there.

They were silent for a couple of seconds as the driver pulled away from the kerb and set off down the street.

"So, good evening?" the man asked just as Marik thought he might have got away without more talking.

"None of your business," he said a little sharper than intended.

There was a chuckle from the front seat. "Oh so that's how it is, huh? You think I'm beneath you so you're just not going to talk to me at all?"

Marik wasn't sure how to respond to that. The voice continued. "Well if you're going to be so high and mighty about it then I could just leave you here and make you walk home."

"And if you did that I'd call your employer and get you fired," Marik shot back, pleased he had actually found intelligent something to say.

"Go ahead, I don't really care anyway," the driver said. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been fired, I'm sure I'll live. The name's Bakura by the way. Bakura Tozokou if you ever feel like booting me out of another job." He gave a mocking laugh. "Bet you wouldn't do it anyway, kid."

Marik was once again taken aback by the man's behaviour. He obviously didn't care about what happened to him at all. They were silent for a few minutes as the scenery changed to show more built-up areas. Marik was thinking he might have got away without any more talking before the driver broke the silence again.

"So if you don't like me calling you kid, what's your name?"

"I'm not just going to give a stranger my name," Marik said with exasperation, wondering why he was cursed with the employee who seemed to want to annoy him to extremes.

"Fine, be that way, I was just trying to be friendly, and believe me, I don't do that very often," Bakura returned. "You should actually feel honoured that I even talked to you at all."

Marik openly laughed at that. "I should feel honoured that you keep interrupting my train of thought? Oh sure I do, please, interrupt some more!"

Bakura grinned. "But of course, after all you seem far too easily wound up by me; it's too fun an opportunity for me to pass up on."

"Oh, lucky me," Marik muttered quietly, earning a chuckle from his wayward driver.

"As it is, it seems you actually are in luck, we're here."

'Thank God!" Marik thought as he flew out of the door just as the car stopped. He headed quickly round to the driver's side, where the window was down and Bakura was looking out expectantly. Marik opened his wallet and paid him, but not without saying, "You're lucky I'm even paying you at all."

Bakura took the money before looking directly at Marik with those haunting eyes and saying, deadpan, "If you didn't I would break into your house and take it anyway."

Marik hadn't been expecting that. Unsure of whether Bakura was joking or not, he opted to shrug and turn to go.

"I hope we meet again," a voice sounded behind him. "You're the most interesting customer I've ever had."

Before Marik could turn back and respond the vehicle revved and set off down the road and out of sight. Shaking his head the Egyptian headed up the steps to the door of the apartment, thinking about the man's parting remark.

Was he really interesting? He doubted that. But as much as the driver had wound him up, Marik had somehow found the exchange rather interesting himself. Strange.

As he opened the door he was greeted by the smell of pizza and the sound of voices coming from the living room. It sounded like there were a fair few people in there. Just when he wanted to be alone and think. Bracing himself, Marik threw his keys into the bowl on the table, slipped his boots off and headed towards the living room.

As he entered the smell of alcohol hit him. Marik took note of the unnatural brightness in Ryou's eyes as the small boy came and greeted him, and realised that he was expected to join him and his friends.

There was a small boy with multi-coloured hair in the corner- Yugi, Marik had met him a couple of times before. A brown haired girl named Anzu and a blonde called Mai were also present. Marik made a mental note to avoid them for the evening, as both of them had hit on him the last time they had spoken and, being a little drunk at the time, he had rejected them rather more forcefully than intended. It wasn't that he didn't like them, it was just the awkwardness that he felt whenever a girl started making a move on him- it often gave him a sense of great distaste and he had no idea why.

He eventually identified the other people in the room as Jonouchi Katsuya, Hiroto Honda and Ryuji Otogi. He often tried to steer clear of those three too- they were alright but a little too cliché as far as university students went, always getting drunk and trying to pull girls. Marik sighed and headed towards the nearest bottle. He knew Ryou would never let him leave- the white haired boy was always encouraging him to widen his social circle and often made him endure parties such as this. Marik didn't mind too much, but right now all he wanted to do was go to his studio and work on his current piece.

However as Mai and Anzu started dancing with Jou and Ryuji, Marik knew it wasn't going to happen. Opening the bottle, he decided to take the viewpoint of 'If you can't beat them, join them'.


	2. Drawing Cartoons

**I'm back with the second chapter! Thanks to my anon reviewer Willow, reviews make my day :D **

**I make no apologies for Marik's terrible language. Enjoy, my dear reader.**

_Chapter 2- Drawing Cartoons_

Marik woke to the shrill sound of his alarm clock and a pounding headache. Sitting up blearily and shutting off the clock he realised he had somehow made it back to his own room before apparently falling asleep fully clothed. The full force of the night before hit him like a train. He suddenly remembered flashes of the party: dancing on the kitchen table; making countless innuendos and… Anzu. Oh Ra, had he really made out with Anzu? He flopped back down onto the pillow, feeling rather sickened. The hangover wasn't helping either.

Never again, he vowed, was he drinking that much alcohol again. It made you do horrendous things you wouldn't even dream of doing if you were sober. He wasn't sure how long he lay there cringing until he heard a timid knock at the door.

"Mm?" he groaned weakly, and Ryou pushed the door open apprehensively, holding a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

"Morning," he said quietly, as though he knew any loud noises would only serve to make the Egyptian's headache worse. "How bad is it?"

Marik groaned again in answer. "Did I really kiss Anzu?"

Ryou giggled slightly as he set the water down on the bedside table and handed Marik the tablets. "Only a little bit," he said consolingly. "And you weren't the only one she kissed, if that makes it any better."

"I'll get back to you on that one," Marik replied as he sat up and swallowed the tablets. "Has everyone gone?"

Ryou nodded as he sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "Only Yugi was still here when I woke up, the rest had already left for one of their optional lectures apparently. You're safe from Anzu for now," he joked.

The tanned teen smiled a little at that before yawning. "What time is it, Ry?"

The white haired boy checked his watch before replying, "Half past ten. How come, have you got somewhere to be?"

Marik shook his head. What a silly question- he never had anywhere to be these days. Ryou acknowledged the shake before getting off the bed again.

"Well I'll leave you alone then, Marik. You may find it better to sleep the hangover off."

Marik nodded again and Ryou turned to leave. He made it about halfway across the room before-

"Shit!"

Ryou turned, startled. "What is it?"

"Shit, shit, shit, I have an interview at quarter to eleven today! Oh bugger, why did I not remember last night, shit, I'm going to be late and I look like crap!" Marik shot off the bed as fast as possible and sprinted towards the bathroom, leaving a shell-shocked Ryou in his wake.

The whitette heard the taps go on and Marik cursing at the state of his hair. He tentatively edged towards the door before asking, "Marik, is it far? I can call a taxi if you like?"

Said Egyptian yelled out frantically in the affirmative before going back to cursing his hair in three different languages. Ryou headed off towards the phone before the blonde could turn the curses on him.

Less than three minutes later Marik flung open the bathroom door in nothing but a towel and pelted over to his room, slamming the door. 'Clothes, clothes', he thought frantically. 'What does one wear to an interview? Bollocks if I know. Where the hell is my hairbrush?'

Ryou, who was stood outside his room, listened to the various bangs and curses as Marik became more and more agitated. Looking at his watch, Ryou saw that Marik had exactly five minutes to get to his destination. Judging by the colourful swearing he was directing at his trousers, it didn't look like he was going to make it.

There was a honk of a car horn outside, and Ryou shouted, "Marik, taxi's here!"

There was a single curse word uttered from behind the door before Marik exited in what could only be described as an explosion of hair products, rejected clothes and important looking papers.

"Is that your portfolio?" Ryou asked tentatively as he caught up with Marik, who was now doing up his boots as fast as possible.

"Most of it. Maybe. I think," the Egyptian replied. "Bugger me sideways if I know."

Ryou didn't have the heart to chastise him for his language. He watched as his house mate finished tying his boots before silently handing him his wallet and phone.

"Good luck, I should be here when you get back," Ryou called as the door slammed.

Marik sprinted down the steps towards the vehicle that was idling by the pavement, opened the door, dived in and slammed it behind him in a move that would have impressed James Bond.

"Millennium Enterprises please!" he gasped out. "As fast as possible, I'm late for an interview."

His driver turned to look at him and Marik's eyes widened.

"Oh, fuck."

Bakura gave him a little smirk. "Hello again, kid. Are you in a better mood today or are you going to be as rude as you were last night?"

Marik glared. "Actually I'm extremely hung-over, late and really need you to step on it, so please just do your job before I actually murder you!"

Bakura's smirk widened before he turned to face the road and pulled away from the kerb. A few moments later he said, "I'd like to see you try, actually."

"Hm?" Marik, who had been trying to collect his thoughts for the upcoming interview, had already forgotten the exchange in favour of recalling his artistic knowledge.

"I'd like to see you try and murder me. It would amuse me greatly."

"I'm sorry?" Marik said incredulously. Was this man mocking him again? "I don't think you should be amused by something like that. Are you some kind of masochist?"

This earned a full on laugh from Bakura. "Now that's not something you ask someone you don't even deem fit to tell your name."

Marik groaned before giving up and resting his head on the window. They were quite close to his destination now, as it wasn't very far into the city and Bakura was going pretty fast, although one glace at his watch told him he was going to be late anyway, for it was already quarter to eleven and they still had a few turns to make.

"What's the interview for anyway?" Bakura asked as the tall building of Millennium Enterprises came into view.

"Game art designer," Marik replied shortly, trying to collect his scattered thoughts once again. "Something to do with one of the manager's hobbies."

"Fair enough," came the reply as they finally pulled up outside the double doors for the building.

"Thanks," Marik said as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket."

"I can wait, if you like," Bakura said suddenly, turning in his seat to fix Marik with those piercing eyes. "You can pay me when you get out. Saves time now."

The Egyptian blinked. What was the white haired man implying? Did he want to laugh in Marik's face when he didn't get the job? Or was he actually being kind to him? Marik shook his head to push those thoughts out of his mind.

"It's ok," he said hurriedly, before throwing some money at Bakura and getting out of the taxi. "Thanks anyway!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran up the steps and disappeared.

Bakura was left looking after him with mixed thoughts. Had he really just been nice to the boy? He was never nice, it defied his nature and everything he had ever known. But still, he had meant it when he told the boy he was interesting. There was something about him and the taxi driver just couldn't put his finger on it.

With a heavy sigh he eased the vehicle forwards and headed off to pick up his next client. He couldn't wait to get off his shift later so he could go to the bar and forget about his troubles like he did every night.

Meanwhile Marik had finally made it to the foyer, where a glance at the clock told him he should be in his interview. He jogged up to the reception desk and said to the girl there, "Marik Ishtar, I have an interview with Mr Pegasus about the game design job?"

The girl, whose name badge read 'Shizuka,' looked him up and down before saying, "You should have been here waiting quarter of an hour ago. Mr Pegasus has already been down to get you."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, the taxi was held up," Marik said quickly, even though Bakura had actually got him here in record time.

Shizuka tapped on the keyboard in front of her before saying, "Well you can go up to the boss's office and see if he'll still interview you. It's the top floor, room E. You can't miss it."

"Thank you so much!" Marik called as he ran towards the stairs at the other end of the foyer. Shizuka shook her head. The poor boy seemed more disorganised than her brother, and that was saying something.

Marik took the stairs two at a time, clutching his papers and hoping he wasn't doing this for nothing. He had no idea what he was going to say in the interview, heck he didn't even know what kind of questions he was going to be asked. Maybe if a certain individual hadn't insisted on distracting him then he would have stood a better chance. Next time he saw Bakura he would have to tell him exactly what he thought of him.

Wait, next time? There wasn't going to be a next time! Marik finally reached the top of the stairs and took a moment to get his breath back, pushing all thoughts of Bakura out of his head. Shizuka was right, it was hard to miss room E, as it was at the end of the corridor and the double doors were covered in what appeared to be fantasy cartoon characters, though none that he recognised.

Taking a firmer hold on his papers, Marik headed towards the doors and knocked. A second later they opened, allowing him a view of a rather luxurious penthouse suite, complete with flat screen TV and an entire wall of windows, offering a rather spectacular view of the city. He didn't have time to admire the décor for more than a few seconds though, as a tall man with long silvery hair entered the room from a side door wearing a red suit and an annoyed expression.

"You must be Marik, yes?" he questioned as he made his way over to said Egyptian.

Marik nodded hesitantly. He didn't quite like the look of irritation on the man's face.

"I'm Maximillion Pegasus, the owner of Milennium Enterprises and the person who will be interviewing you. Even though I shouldn't be doing so as you're already late." Pegasus reached Marik and took the papers out of his hand. "Follow me," he said, heading towards one of the many doors in the penthouse.

Marik did as he was told. This man was clearly in a bad mood and he didn't want to make it worse than it already was. They entered a smaller room with a desk and two chairs. Pegasus took one and motioned Marik to sit in the other.

"Now as I'm sure you're aware this job requires you to create designs of fantasy creatures that will eventually be used in a new game the Enterprise is creating. It should be ready for release within the year so you will be working on a contract. You will have to produce many different designs based on the abilities of each creature and each one must be approved by me. So, what do you think you can bring to the table, Marik?"

Pegasus rested his forearms on the table and looked at Marik closely. The teen simply looked back. Honestly, he had no idea with Pegasus had just said. Of course he'd read through the job summary when he'd applied, but that had been a month ago and the events of last night had wiped most things from his brain. He had no idea how to respond! What could he bring to the table? He decided to stall.

"May I just ask, what is the name of the game, please?" he asked as meekly as possible.

Pegasus raised an eyebrow. "Duel Monsters. It's tipped to be quite huge. That is if you can deliver. Do you like drawing cartoons, Marik?"

Marik looked down at his lap. Truth be told he had never tried his hand at cartoons. Sure, he had drawn fantasy creatures, but they were more real-life style than the type Pegasus seemed to be looking for. He had been expecting his interviewer to ask for real-life works, not designs for a children's card game.

Realising Pegasus was still waiting for an answer, Marik hurriedly said, "I've never really tried, sir. I tend to do more real-life drawings, but I'm sure I could learn."

He knew instantly it was a mistake. Pegasus's second eyebrow went up to join his first and he tilted his head slightly.

"The why, Marik, would you apply for a job that specifically required a less realistic style if you are unable to deliver?"

Marik bowed his head, so he only heard Pegasus sigh.

"Look," the man said. "Clearly we're getting nowhere here. Luckily for you, I recently made a business partnership with someone who is actually looking for someone of your… Talents. I shall give her your details and your current works," here he indicated the mess of papers that was Marik's portfolio, "and see if she wishes to hire you. I hope for your sake that she takes a liking to your style. It is very good, if not my sort of thing."

Marik raised his head to see if Pegasus was joking. On realising he wasn't, he gave a small smile. "Thank you, sir," he said, before Pegasus stood.

"I hope you realise you've wasted my valuable time here, Marik. I don't appreciate that, and I can tell a hangover when I see one. You're lucky I want to impress my new business partner or you'd be out faster than you can say 'Winged Dragon of Ra."

"Sir?"

"Oh, you wouldn't understand," the silver haired man said as he swept dramatically out of the small office. "It's only going to be the strongest card in the game once I find a designer. Anyway, off you go."

With that he opened the door any ushered Marik into the hall before closing the door rather abruptly behind him. The teen had to take a moment to recover. What had just happened? It had all been over so fast…

All he knew was that Pegasus had taken his portfolio and would be informing someone else of his existence. That could only be good right? He shook his head slowly as he made his way down the corridor towards the stairs. Well, he had blown his interview through a mixture of alcohol, scattered thoughts and bad luck with taxi drivers but at least he wouldn't be drawing cartoons for a year.

Marik just wanted to go home and crawl back into bed where he could forget about the whole experience. With this in mind he headed quickly down the stairs, (though he had to slow down when the movement started hurting his head) and back into the lobby.

Shizuka looked up as he passed before saying, "Mr Sennen, you may go up now."

The only other person in the lobby, whom Marik hadn't even noticed, nodded and stood. Marik did a double take: he looked almost exactly like Yugi! Granted he was slightly taller and broader but the resemblance was striking. He was obviously here for an interview too. Well, at least he looked prepared with a professional-looking A3 portfolio and a smart suit. He was bound to get the job.

Marik shrugged it off and instead headed out into the weak sunshine. He was almost disappointed to see that there wasn't a taxi waiting for him outside before he realised what he had just thought. No, he did not want to see Bakura again, no matter how nice his eyes were! He wasn't even gay!

Well, there was the problem, Marik thought as he set off walking through the busy streets to his apartment. He didn't actually know whether he was gay or not. His life had been rather sheltered back in Egypt and he had never been given any advice on the subject, so he just assumed he would know when he was attracted to someone.

He knew he wasn't attracted to Anzu, he thought as he crossed the road. But did that mean he wasn't attracted to any girls at all? The whole subject was rather confusing on the whole, and he didn't feel like thinking into it too much right now, what with Bakura and all. Wait, what? Marik physically stopped on the pavement at this.

No, he refused to think of Bakura like that. He had only met the guy twice and he'd annoyed the crap out of him both times. Hell, he'd even contributed to Marik failing his interview! There was no way he found Bakura attractive. The man was an annoying, derogatory arsehole. With nice eyes. But his eyes were beside the point!

Marik continued his inner monologue all the way back to the apartment; in fact he was still in full flow when he unlocked the door around midday. Therefore he was totally unprepared for Ryou emerging from the kitchen with a wide-eyed expression saying, "Well, how did it go?"

"Fucking terrible," Marik replied instantly, using the tone he was currently thinking in without meaning to. He missed Ryou's eyes filling with tears as he pulled his boots off and stalked past him to his room, slamming the door and leaving his bewildered housemate to make of it what he would.

Letting out a frustrated growl that was mostly directed at himself, Marik pulled his shirt and trousers off before crawling into bed just in his boxers and closing his eyes. As he calmed down a little he realised he had probably just upset Ryou greatly: he would have to apologise late. But first he required sleep. Sleep and the ability to block russet eyes from his mind.


	3. Hole in the Wall

**I would just like to add another little disclaimer here: the name and tagline of the bar is actually inspired by 'Take it Off' by Ke$ha, which I don't own but thought it would be appropriate. I really liked writing this chapter, as it's quite a bit longer so more the length I'm aiming to write every chapter. I write Marik better but writing as Bakura is also pretty fun, so I've found.**

**Lakey: Yes, you should get a ff account! :D In a couple of chapters you get your wish, but this chapter should have enough action to tide you over until then. I'm glad you like it! :D *gives cookie***

**Enjoy, my lovely reader.**

_Chapter 3- Hole in the Wall_

Marik woke a few hours later feeling infinitely better but extremely hungry. Looking at the clock he realised he had slept for six hours: Ryou was probably making dinner as it was his night to cook. Marik then realised with a stab of guilt exactly what he had last said to Ryou: he hoped the quiet boy would forgive him for being so rude. He slipped out of bed and pulled on his discarded trousers and shirt before running a comb through his hair and leaving his room. He headed down the hall towards the kitchen, where he could hear sounds of food being cooked Ryou moving around.

Tentatively he put his head around the door. Sure enough, there was his friend, slicing potatoes by the kitchen sink.

"Ry?"

"Hm?" Ryou turned away from the food to look at him. Marik decided to just get on with it.

"Ry, I'm so sorry about how I came in earlier. I didn't mean to swear at you, I just didn't get the job and my taxi driver managed to wind me up and I had a hangover…" He trailed off when he saw Ryou smile at him.

"It's fine, Marik. I didn't think you'd be in the best of moods anyway so I guess you could say I expected it." He turned back to the sink, so missed Marik's frown.

"Still, that doesn't mean you deserve it, so I just wanted to say I'm really sorry."

"Leave it, Marik. Could you set the table, please?"

The Egyptian nodded even though Ryou's back was to him, and set about collecting the cutlery.

"Actually I was thinking we could go out tonight," Ryou said somewhat hesitantly as he finished cutting the last potato.

"Where?" Marik asked.

"Oh just this bar I know, it's not too far and it's actually rather nice." Ryou was making it sound like a question, which made Marik slightly suspicious.

"What's it called?" he asked as he grabbed a couple of glasses for drinks.

"Um, Hole in the Wall. It's quite small…" Ryou said almost nervously as he put the potatoes in the oven.

"Ryou." Marik set the glasses down and turned to his friend.

"Y-yes?" The stutter was all Marik needed to confirm his suspicions.

"What are you not telling me?" Ryou blushed deeply before taking a deep breath.

"Don't tell anyone, Marik, but there's this guy there who I think is really cute but you can't tell anyone because I don't even know whether he likes guys or not. We've never spoken but I sometimes catch him looking over me and when I do he doesn't look away… I don't even know his name but I really want to get to know him." Ryou stopped talking, a little flushed as though he had wanted to tell someone this for a long time.

Unlike Marik, who was honestly way too confused right now to even think about his sexuality, Ryou was fairly open about being bisexual and didn't receive any negativity from it from others. So Marik could have probably guessed why Ryou wanted to go to that particular bar tonight.

"Is this the bar you often go out to with your course-mates?" he asked the white haired teen, who nodded in the affirmative.

"He's usually there but I'm always surrounded by the rest of them so I can't go and talk to him," he replied. "Though I probably wouldn't do it even if I was on my own," Ryou continued, hanging his head.

Marik smiled. "Well we'll go there tonight and I'll see if I can get a look at the lucky guy," he joked.

Ryou smiled at him gratefully before changing the subject.

After dinner they watched a film before Ryou decided it was about the right time to go out.

"Any sort of dress code?" Marik asked before they headed to their rooms to get ready.

"Not really," Ryou said. "I normally just wear jeans and a nice shirt. Don't take a jumper or anything though; it can get really warm in there."

"Thanks for the heads up," Marik replied before heading into his room. He sighed as he looked around the messy room. He'd never find anything in here in the state it was in. After a lot of hunting around he found a pair of tight jeans and a fairly tight purple top to go with them. Having always had to wear loose- fitting clothes in Egypt, Marik was quite enjoying the novelty of not having to dress in materials that flapped about whenever he moved.

As an afterthought he opened a draw and pulled out the gold jewellery he used to wear in Egypt. Sure, it was mostly just cultural but it would offset the purple nicely. He frowned at how odd that thought sounded as he added the armbands, but quickly forgot about it in favour of sorting his hair out.

He was just finishing up when Ryou shouted, "Marik, you've been in there for an hour, how long does it take for you to be satisfied with how you look?"

Marik didn't answer, instead opting to finish the last spike of his hair with a flourish.

"Ok, I'm ready now," he said, smiling at Ryou's eagerness to leave. He headed towards the door, which was opened by Ryou before he could reach it.

"Someone's in a hurry," he remarked as he passed the excited teen.

"And you seem to be deliberately going slow to annoy me!" came the response.

Marik laughed. "You know it takes me a while to look this good," he joked as he checked he had everything he needed. When this was done Ryou practically dragged him out of the apartment and down the road. As they walked Marik decided to quiz his friend further with regards to the mystery crush.

"So what does he look like?"

Ryou thought for a moment before responding. "He's tall, taller than you I think. And broader too. He has blonde hair too, but it's really wild, it sort of defies gravity and sticks up wherever it wants to. He usually wears black…" The small teen trailed off in thought before continuing. "He looks a few years older than us too. And he arrives on foot so I think he might live nearby.

Marik nodded. "He sounds ok, though you won't know if that's true if you don't go and talk to him!"

"I know, I know," Ryou said. "I just can't, you know how shy I am!"

Marik looked at him. "You weren't particularly shy last night when everyone was over," he remarked.

"That was different. It was with people I know and I felt comfortable!"

"So this guy makes you feel uncomfortable?"

"I never said that…"

"Suuuure."

The pair continued to joke as they made their way into town, Ryou leading the way with certainty.

"We're nearly here," he said a while later as they turned into a darker side street that was a lot narrower than the rest of them. Marik had never been to this part of the city before: he had to admit his first impressions weren't all that great.

"Are you sure, Ryou?"

"Of course," the white haired boy replied. "I've been here a fair few times with Jou and Honda so I know the way."

"If you say so," Marik mumbled as he followed his friend further down the street. The buildings on either side were mostly old shops, worn looking with faded shutters, and he could see a couple of buildings that were bordered up. There were no street lamps, leaving the pavement looking a little dingy and a few pieces of litter that had escaped a nearby bin accompanied them as they walked down the street.

After a few moments the sound of music and laughter could be heard, and eventually the club came into view. Ryou was right: it did look quite small. The sign above it was emblazoned with 'Hole in the Wall (It's a dirty free for all!)' and a picture of a shot glass next to it. Classy.

Marik shrugged off the obvious innuendo before going to stand with Ryou at the back of the small queue that was outside the door.

"It's the Thursday night crowd," Ryou informed him. "Normally you don't have to queue at all even though it's usually full." Marik only nodded, hoping Ryou knew what he was doing. The Egyptian favoured the larger clubs towards the centre of town as they often had a lot of security about, and in the three months he had been in Domino there had never been an incident in them. This one looked a little on the seedy side if he was being honest.

He didn't have long to consider all the things that could go wrong, for in a few minutes they were at the front of the queue and the man on the door, a tall bald man with a tattoo across half of his face, was asking for his ID. He produced it quickly and followed Ryou into the club, expecting the worst.

What he actually got was a pleasant surprise. The interior was much nicer than the exterior: it had two bars, one of which you had to climb a steep set of stairs to get to, and it looked fairly clean. Or at least that was the impression he got: he couldn't quite tell in the dim lighting. The only source of light was the lasers embedded in the ceiling, casting multicolour beams across the dancing crowd below them.

The music was loud but not unbearably so, so when Ryou asked Marik if he wanted to get a drink from the bar up the stairs, Marik was able to agree without having to yell too loudly. As they headed towards the stairs, he failed to see dark red eyes following him from the other bar, and he didn't see the small smile appear on the same face that the eyes belonged to.

Yes, Marik had turned up in Bakura's favourite bar, and the latter had to admit he was pretty happy about it, as he hadn't been sure whether he would even see the Egyptian again. His russet eyes continued to follow his interesting client as he ascended the stairs, noting the tight jeans and gold jewellery. As Marik sat down at the bar next to a white-haired boy, probably his flat-mate, Bakura turned back to his drink, downed it, and motioned to the bartender for a refill. He was going to talk to that boy and find out his name one way or another.

He was just about to down his double vodka and coke when it was snatched out of his hand and instead downed by another.

"Mariku! What have I told you about that?"

Bakura turned in annoyance to see his 'friend' sitting on the stool next to him wearing an evil smile as he put the empty glass on the table. Well really he was more of a drinking partner than a friend, because Bakura was sure friends were supposed to trust each other further than they could throw them. And he didn't exactly trust Mariku.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you a replacement if you stop bitching," the broad man stated as his grin widened. "Though since when did you start adding a mixer to your spirits?"

"Since you got me to down eight in a row and made me ill for two days," Bakura muttered, but Mariku wasn't listening to him, instead trying to catch the attention of the guy behind the bar.

Once Bakura had successfully got his alcohol, he turned back to Mariku.

"Why are you here tonight, thought you were working?"

"Plans change," the other said as he took a pure shot. "And I really want to pull tonight," he added as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Then why not go to one of the bigger places?" Bakura asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mind your own business," Mariku smirked, giving Bakura a flash of that insane purple glare. "Or I shall have to mind it for you."

Bakura shrugged in dismissal. He didn't really care what Mariku was doing there tonight, he had his own agenda and he intended on sticking to it. Following his train of thought he looked over to where the two teens were sat on the upper level. They appeared to be engaged in some sort of drinking game involving shots. Each to their own.

Mariku noticed his glance and followed it to the two smaller teens.

"Looks like I'm not the only one looking to pull," he said, grinning wildly. As he looked on the small white haired boy turned and caught his gaze. Mariku didn't look away. After a few seconds, however, the little teen turned away and whispered something to his friend, giggling at the same time.

Bakura noted the whole exchange coolly, realising who Mariku's target was. He sighed: the poor boy wouldn't know what hit him. Turning back to the bar, he ordered another round of drinks (ok, maybe five rounds) for him and Mariku, who finally looked away from the boy with the promise of alcohol.

"I'm going to down these and go dance, I think," he said nonchalantly.

"Whatever." Once again Bakura couldn't care less. Instead he focussed on the drinks in front of him. He would need them to talk to the tanned boy later.

Meanwhile on the upper level, Ryou and Marik were busy ordering yet another round.

"Why are you so insistent on having so much to drink, Ry?" Marik asked as the normally gentle boy called for another round as soon as they had downed the last one.

"Because if he comes over I can't talk to him while I'm sober!" he replied as though it were obvious.

"And remind me again why I'm not allowed to look at him?"

"It'll be way too obvious if we both look, he might get scared," he insisted, distracting the other teen with another shot.

"Does he look like the type to get scared?" Marik asked, slurring slightly. They had both already downed quite a few shots: he had a feeling he was going to regret them in the morning.

"Well, no… But all the same…" Ryou tailed off.

"Just let me look at him!"

"No, please don't! He might think we're judging him."

Marik sighed and gave up. "Fine, but you're being such a girl about this, Ry. Normal people would flirt across a crowded room before going and starting a conversation. You're sitting here slowly getting drunk and not even letting me look at him."

"You're here for support, Mar'. You're not supposed to make it worse! Just go with it, ok?"

Marik nodded, resigned to the fact that he would have to deal with Ryou's disappointment later when they inevitably left without talking to his crush. Oh well, it was his own fault.

Ryou continued to alternate between taking a drink and looking over his shoulder for a minute or so before they were interrupted by a couple of familiar faces.

"Ryou!" Jonouchi shouted, causing the small boy to jump and spill some of his drink. "Hey, Ryuji, Ryou and Marik are here!"

The black haired boy appeared behind his friend, both of them wearing stupid grins and obviously intoxicated.

"How's it going with mystery guy, eh?" Ryuji asked, fiddling with the dice that hung from his ear. "Plucked up the balls to talk to him yet?"

Ryou shook his head forcefully and giggled, causing Jou to fix him with a glare.

"Well that's no good is it? Come on, come and dance with us, it'll get you in the mood!" Before Ryou could protest he was dragged out of his seat by the hyperactive pair and, with an imploring glance at Marik, was pulled away to dance with them.

Marik smirked slightly as he was left alone at the bar, wondering whether he'd be able to sneak a glance at Ryou's crush now he was absent. Deciding he'd better not risk it, he turned back to the bar once again, and attempted to read the names on the bottles behind the counter. He really had drunk rather a lot, he thought as the bottles went in and out of focus in front of him.

He wasn't sat alone for long before he sensed someone sit on the chair beside him and a smooth voice say, "Care for me to buy you a drink?"

He turned to face the newcomer with some difficulty- wow, was he really that drunk?- and had to stop his jaw dropping. The stranger looked so alike him, they could have been brothers. He possessed the same hair colour, skin colour and purple eyes as Marik, but he looked wilder, as though he'd just got back from a week in the jungle and loved every moment of it.

Marik took a moment to process his features before replying, "Depends who's asking."

His lookalike chuckled. "The name's Mariku if you must know, though I don't see how that should affect my offer."

Marik had to agree on that one. "I'll take a vodka and coke then. I'd rather not see another shot anytime soon." He motioned to the row of small empty glasses on the bar in front of him.

Mariku chuckled and motioned to the bartender to get Marik's drink. While he was waiting for it he decided to hit on the boy further.

"So what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this? Or is that line too overused to be effective?"

This caused Marik to laugh a lot more than he would have done had he been sober.

"A little overused but it'll do. I'm here with a friend." He motioned over his shoulder to where Ryou had disappeared to, almost falling off his stool with the movement. Luckily, his new conversation partner caught him.

"Wow, I know I'm sexy but I didn't expect you to fall for me that easily," Mariku commented as he helped Marik steady himself. "Maybe you don't need that drink after all."

"I'm having it after you went to the trouble to buy it me," Marik slurred, wondering why it was suddenly so difficult to speak coherently. He reached for the newly made drink and attempted to down it all in one. The result was a rather interesting spluttering sound as he descended into a fit of laughter for some reason.

Mariku couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The kid was so pissed he couldn't even down a drink: he'd be a perfect partner for the night. Hiding his smirk behind a broad smile, he waited as Marik recovered before holding his hand out.

"Come on, I think you and me need to go and dance." Before the smaller boy could reply he'd been pulled out of his seat and led to the dance floor on the upper level by a practical stranger.

Dimly, Marik wondered what the hell he was doing, but he'd ingested so much alcohol that it was almost as though his body was on autopilot. He could see what was happening but couldn't do anything to prevent it. He briefly thought whether it was considered gay to be dancing with another man, but alcohol quickly pushed the thought from his brain. This was how he found himself to be on the dance floor with someone he had only just met with no inclination to stop.

The two Egyptians (for Mariku was indeed from Egypt even though Marik didn't know it) danced for two songs before the taller male began to get impatient. He had got it down to a fine art: when he felt like it he would enter the bar, find a target, buy them a few drinks, dance for a while before leaving with them and taking them back to his apartment all within half an hour.

This one seemed to be content with dancing without even touching him: his whole image projected 'virgin'. Mariku grinned again. It had been quite a while since he had bothered to pull anyone from this bar, and it seemed tonight was his lucky night.

Eager to get on with it the tall man grabbed his unwitting dance partner and wound his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Marik was too drunk to notice at first, but when the man grabbed his chin and tilted it up he became aware of the situation. He found that he didn't care. It hadn't even crossed his mind that this man fit Ryou's description perfectly, right down to the black jeans and plain black top.

Mariku leant down and pressed his lips against Marik's, and the latter found himself responding without even meaning to, pulling his partner closer to him and clinging to him. Part of his brain blamed it on the alcohol, the other part… He wasn't sure if he even had another part by this point. All he knew was that he was making out with another guy in a crowd of people and he didn't care.

Mariku had just pushed his tongue into the other's mouth when there was a loud curse from right next to them. Before he could stop him, Marik had pulled away at the sound of the voice.

Jonouchi was stood there staring at them, and behind him the two Egyptians could make out the form of Ryou, who was looking at Marik with tears in his eyes.

"Marik, what the fuck are you doing?" Jou's voice was laced with anger as he glared at the smaller boy.

"W-what?" Marik asked, confused as to what was going on. Was Jou angry at him because he was kissing another guy? And why was Ryou crying?

"You know what, you asshole. How could you?" Jou was already turning away in disgust, dragging Ryou with him. The small white haired teen shot Marik a look of anguish as he followed Jonouchi and they disappeared into the crowd.

"What did I do?" Marik asked in bewilderment as he looked up at his dancing partner, who shrugged without interest.

"No idea, never even met the guy before. Seen the small one in here a few times though."

He said it in a tone that meant that conversation was over, and before Marik could form a reply his lips were crushed against the other's with renewed force.

Meanwhile Jonouchi had managed to pull a distraught Ryou away from the dance floor to the relative peace of the bar. The smaller boy was trying to inconspicuously wipe away his tears but was failing miserably.

"That bastard," Jou said, glaring back to the mass of dancers. "What the hell is he doing? Did you tell him about your guy?"

Ryou hiccupped and nodded. "I gave him a description but he hadn't seen him before. It's my fault, he didn't know what he looked like." He took a deep shaky breath. "I want to go home, Jou."

The blonde nodded. "I'll go and grab Ryuji and we'll get you back safely. Wait here for a sec."

Ryou nodded as his friend disappeared into the crowd once again. He wasn't bothered by anyone luckily, and a minute later Jonouchi was back by his side with Ryuji in tow. The black haired man patted him on the shoulder and said, "Jou told me about Marik, I'm sorry."

Ryou tried for a smile, which failed, before standing. "It's not like I have any claim over him," he said sadly. "I just want to get out of here."

At these words the trio headed towards the stairs and negotiated their way down them with some difficulty. After reaching the bottom they skirted past the crowd and headed out of the door.

A pair of russet eyes watched them with interest. Bakura had expected Mariku to be stealing the small albino away for the night, yet there he was leaving with a tear streaked face and two friends different to the one he had arrived with.

Swaying slightly, (he couldn't even remember how many rounds he had drunk) Bakura got off his stool and made his way towards the upper level, holding his latest drink carefully. It would be hard to pick Mariku out in a crowd, but he had to try. After all, he was intending on staying in his apartment tonight. He picked his way through the crowd, every now and then needing to use someone for support, until he finally picked out the spiky hair of Mariku.

Pushing through a group of giggling girls his drinking partner finally came into view, and he was making out with someone. Bakura recognised the gold armbands glinting in the light of the lasers before anything else, and after that it only took his saturated brain a few seconds to work out who Mariku was kissing.

Well, fuck.

Had he not needed a place to sleep that night Bakura would have punched Mariku in the face right then. Not that that was a particularly good idea: Mariku was one of the strongest fighters around, but Bakura was almost past caring. Almost.

As it was, he settled for inching towards the otherwise occupied couple and, smiling grimly, tipped his drink all over their heads before disappearing into the crowd. Shouts and curses could be heard behind him as he pushed past people and headed down the stairs.

He wasn't even sure why it had affected him so much. He decided to put it down to alcohol, but a little voice inside him wouldn't stop suggesting that it was something more than that. He told the voice to shut up and go screw itself. He didn't even know the boy's name for fuck's sake, there was no reason for him to be pissed at Mariku for choosing to make out with him. Yes, it was definitely all the alcohol's fault. Blame the alcohol.

Bakura skirted round the crowd, taking the same path the small boy and his friends had just taken, and finally made it to the door. He burst outside into the cool air and took a moment to calm down. Glancing around he saw the small white haired boy leant again the wall a few meters away, being consoled by his two friends. Maybe he too had seen the pair in the crowd upstairs, and Bakura would put money on the small teen having the hots for Mariku.

He wished him luck with that.

He turned away from the little group and headed down the street, negotiating the twists and turns with difficulty as he headed for Mariku's apartment. More often than not he headed this way alone, as Mariku either left long before him or long after him, so he counted on himself to know the way. He walked into a couple of walls, and punched one in anger before finally emerging onto the street that held Mariku's abode.

Having been told the security code a long time ago Bakura wasted no time in gaining entry to the building and weaving his way up the stairs. On arriving at the fourth floor he checked for the spare key- only to find it missing.

"Thanks Mariku, thanks a lot. First you steal my interesting client and then you lock me out of your fucking apartment. You giant arsehole."

Bakura's rant devolved into slurred mutterings as he thought about the best way to gain entrance to the apartment. He couldn't very well kick the door down, it would arouse suspicion and the last thing he wanted was a drunken encounter with the police.

After debating other methods for quite some time Bakura's brain decided he could kick the door open quietly enough thank you very much. Pushing himself off the wall he aimed his leg up with the door and thrust it forward in a powerful (or so he thought) kick.

The door remained standing. After cursing under his breath Bakura tried again. Still nothing. Growling in frustration he threw his whole weight against it- to no avail.

"Arsehole," he cursed his friend under his breath as he resigned himself to sleeping outside the door until Mariku came home.

As a last ditch attempt, he turned the handle. The door swung calmly open.

Bakura slowly raised an eyebrow before stalking into the apartment and slamming the door behind him. He headed straight for the sofa where he collapsed and soon fell to sleep. He would not think any more of the matter, he promised himself.


	4. The Aftermath

**I decided to get this chapter uploaded pretty quickly as it's sort of a filler. It focusses a little more on Marik's past but don't worry, the next chapter has enough action for this one and itself! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this story so far, I hope you enjoy this instalment. Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think!**

**Lakeyes123: Your review made me very happy, I'm glad you like my writing! :) Plot twists are my speciality and that one was way too fun to write ;) (Also I've never PM'd before so I'm not actually sure XD )**

_Chapter 4- The Aftermath_

Marik awoke to the sound of birdsong, which was rather unusual yet rather pleasant. He turned over sleepily towards the sound of the noise before a realisation hit him. He wasn't in his bed.

The Egyptian opened his eyes and shot up: startling the small flock of birds that were milling around at his feet. He instinctively threw his hands up to shield the harsh light that hit him, and it was only after a minute of careful adjustment that he was finally able to make out his surroundings. There were trees, grass and a rather inquisitive looking sparrow a few meters away from him.

Marik had fallen asleep on a bench in the park.

He stood slowly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the dryness if his throat. Getting his bearings, he managed to work out which direction his home was and headed that way, trying to straighten his rumpled clothes on the way. He struggled to remember the events of last night: it was clear he'd had a lot more than he was supposed to if the headache was anything to go by. He recalled drinking and laughing with Ryou, and he could dimly recollect the stranger's face, whose name was… Mariku, that was it.

Marik remembered dancing with the man and kissing him. He stopped dead. Had he really kissed another guy? He groaned, and vowed to himself never to let Ryou buy his drinks again. He couldn't really remember much about the kiss for he had been too far gone, but it hadn't seemed that bad at the time. Of course it brought up awkward questions concerning his sexuality, but Marik decided to ignore them for the time being.

Resuming his walk, Marik then recalled what had happened next. They had been making out before some absolute idiot had gone and poured their drink all over the pair of them. Marik put a hand up to his hair: sure enough it was still a little sticky and no doubt looked terrible. Mariku had gone absolutely crazy, yelling insults and curses and the person responsible, who was sadly nowhere to be seen. They had parted ways after that, neither of them willing to remain in the club in the state they were in.

Marik had headed to the toilets to attempt to clean up, and with nobody with him, he assumed that he had headed out of the club and ended up at the park. He couldn't really remember much after the drink had been poured on them: he did hope he hadn't done anything too embarrassing.

He continued to think about the night before as he left the park and entered the suburbs of Domino. Why had Ryou been crying? The thought came to him before he could even picture his housemate, but as he thought it the image of Ryou hiding behind Jonouchi sprang to mind. He could only assume Ryou had left with Jou soon after, and Marik felt a little guilty for not having stopped them. After all, it seemed to have been his fault Ryou was so upset.

Marik continued to ponder this particular mystery as he continued home, and within the hour he found himself on the front steps and none the wiser. Luckily he still had his wallet, phone and keys, so he was able to gain entrance to the apartment. Setting his keys down on the table he checked around the apartment to find Ryou wasn't there. Instead a note was on the kitchen table.

'_Marik, I've gone to class, will be back later. We need to talk. Ryou.'_

Marik gulped. That didn't sound good. For some reason he had managed to anger the small teen and he didn't even know why. Unable to come up with an answer, Marik put the note in the bin and headed to the fridge. Half a bottle of orange juice and some toast later, not to mention several ibuprofens, Marik decided to clean himself up before retreating to his studio for a few hours. Checking the clock he realised it was close to midday, it was no surprise Ryou was already in class: he had probably been up in hours already.

He headed to his room where he collected a fresh set of comfortable clothes and, after a little struggle to find some matching socks, entered the bathroom. The shower helped drive away the headache somewhat, and once the stickiness was out of his hair he switched the shower off and towelled himself dry. After putting on the clean clothes and fixing his hair Marik quickly checked his phone to see if he had any texts. He didn't. Sighing he put the phone back in his pocket and headed to the kitchen.

Marik grabbed some biscuits to keep him going and a cup of water before walking down the hall and opening a door about halfway down. He smiled at the sight before him. Paintings, all his own, adorned the walls of his studio, giving the room a vibrant and colourful feel. After so many years with only plain, beige walls for company, Marik loved to experiment with different shades of colour, ranging from dark, smoky greys to bright yellows and reds.

A rather battered dark red sofa ran across the right wall of the small room, across from the window on the left wall. Ryou sometimes sat on it when he wanted to watch Marik work or needed to talk, and Marik himself had spent many hours there searching for inspiration for his next piece.

There was a single large cabinet in the corner of the room that held all his supplies: pencils, crayons, canvases and different kinds of papers, and of course, his beloved paint box. Marik enjoyed most forms of traditional art, but painting was definitely his favourite. The box held not only a whole rainbow of paints and brushes: it was also home to the small pad of paper Ishizu had given him in Egypt all those years ago. It was full now, full of the first ever drawings and sketches Marik had done when he had first started out.

The Egyptian often liked to skim through the pages, admiring certain drawings and smiling fondly at others. His favourite was one towards the end of the book, completed about four years ago when he was still a relative beginner. It was one of himself and his two siblings, drawn from memory and shaded with the same pencil. They were stood side by side as though in front of a camera, and they were all laughing together. There were some mistakes, of course, like the fact that Odion's smile didn't resemble reality and Ishizu's hair was shaded oddly, but Marik loved it all the same. There were no photos of him and his siblings: to him this was the next best thing.

Marik set down his biscuits on the small table near the door before placing the cup of water on another table next to his easel, which sat in the centre of the room. The easel currently held his latest piece, which was still just a sketch but ready for its first layer of paint. It depicted the park Marik had found himself in earlier, but it was at the far end of the grassy area, where a small pond was located.

The pond was the focus of the sketch, with the trees and flowers added in almost as an afterthought, even though Marik knew that he had placed everything correctly as it existed in real life. Not many people knew the pond existed, as the park was rather large and people tended not to venture far enough to find it. Marik had been thinking one day whilst walking and before he knew it he had walked the length of the park and stumbled across the place by accident.

He often zoned out of reality whilst thinking, and while the thoughts could be rather productive in sorting things out, they had often got him into some interesting situations. The little pond surrounded by trees was one of them.

Retrieving his paint box from the cabinet and setting it next to the cup of water, Marik debated which colours he would need to start with. He was painting the scene at the time of sunset, so although he would need greens for the surroundings, he would require warmer colours for the sky and the light the sun cast. As he was searching though the box a specific tube of paint caught his eye. At first glance it was brown, but on closer inspection it was redder than plain brown: as though the two colours had mixed perfectly to form an entirely new shade. Marik picked up the tube. The colour reminded him of…

Bakura's eyes.

The Egyptian sighed. Was he ever going to get that annoying man out of his head? At this rate it seemed highly unlikely. Truthfully Marik hadn't really thought too much about him since he left the house last night with Ryou, and when they had got to the bar he had had other things on his mind, but at the sight of the colourful paint his mind had gone right back to Bakura. He sighed ruefully. He was going to have to deal with those thoughts sometime in the near future, even if he was never going to see the driver again, which was a distinct possibility.

Marik put the tube back before determinedly sorting out the other colours and mixing them to make the correct shades. Then, with one last glance at the red-brown tube, Marik began painting.

It didn't take long for him to become totally absorbed in his work. The flow of the brush as it blended colour on the canvas blocked out all other thoughts in Marik's mind. He barely noticed the time pass as he worked to complete the first coat of colour, and it wasn't until he was three quarters of the way down the large canvas that he paused for a few moments. Standing back the painting really didn't look that impressive, but this didn't bother Marik: the real magic came when he was a few layers into the work and he was finally getting the effect he wanted. Right now it seemed to be a mess of green and orange, but that would soon change.

He grabbed a few biscuits before looking at the time: three in the afternoon. Ryou would be home soon as the university finished early on Fridays. Marik sighed as he realised he wouldn't be able to finish the first coat before his housemate returned, and regretfully went to wash his palette and brushes.

He was just returning the paint box to its rightful place in the cabinet when he heard the front door slam: Ryou was home. Marik quietly closed the door to the studio and stood in the hall for a second. He was about to find out what he had done wrong last night, but honestly he wouldn't have minded prolonging the moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, he headed down to the kitchen where he could hear Ryou moving around.

On entering the room he could see that the next few minutes were going to be pretty painful for him. His small house mate was making himself tea, and by the looks of it everything he touched had personally offended him. As he slammed the kettle down and yanked open the cupboard door to get the sugar Marik decided to intervene before Ryou broke something.

He cleared his throat and stepped further into the kitchen, causing Ryou to whirl round, brandishing a spoon threateningly. On seeing it was only Marik, his expression changed to one of sadness briefly before reverting back to its angry state.

"So you made it back then," he said haughtily as he turned back to his drink.

"Yeah I did. Ryou, what's going on?"

The white haired boy made him wait for an answer as he finished making his tea. After slowly putting the milk back in the fridge he turned to Marik again.

"You really don't know?"

Marik shook his head.

"Do you even remember who you were with last night?"

This time Marik nodded. The gesture alone made Ryou's eyes narrow.

"Do you know who he is?"

Marik was confused now. Was this guy famous or something? "He said his name was Mariku… I don't really know much else."

"Did you not stop for one minute to realise he was the guy I liked? That he fit my description perfectly? Did you not think that I might be a little hurt to see you practically molesting him right in front of me?" Ryou's face was turning red and he looked close to tears. "No, you didn't!" he carried on. "You just went and stole him, didn't you?"

Marik was shocked. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but now he thought back to Ryou's description…

"Oh my God, Ryou, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I had no idea…"

"Of course you didn't!" Ryou practically screamed. "Because I wouldn't let you look at him in case it drove him off! I was so stupid, it's my fault and now I'm just angry at myself for being so hopeful about him. It's quite clear that I'm not even close to his type so I suppose I should just forget about it." Ryou's anger seemed to be fading fast, replaced by guilt and sadness. "I wish we'd never gone, I've been so wrong." He tailed off and looked away.

Marik, for his part, felt awful. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognised the man by Ryou's description: he had even been wearing all black for God's sake! Slowly he moved round the table and held his arms out to Ryou for a hug. The smaller boy looked at him for a second before putting his mug down and accepting the embrace.

"I'm so sorry," Marik whispered. "If I'd have known I would never have even talked to him. I should have realised." He felt Ryou sniff slightly and his guilt increased. How could he have been so insensitive? "If I'd had any idea I would never…"

He was interrupted by Ryou pulling away and wiping his eyes. "It doesn't matter, Marik. I don't have a claim to him so I guess I should stop acting like a jealous boyfriend." He gave a weak smile. "I'm sorry for shouting at you, I was just upset."

Marik nodded. "I know, even though I feel awful about it. It'll not happen again. Especially not tonight."

"Tonight?" Ryou looked confused. "What's happening tonight?"

"I need to apologise somehow, don't I?" Marik said, smiling. "First round is on me?"

Ryou looked at him before realisation kicked in. "Do you really think that's such a good idea, Mar'?"

"Of course it is! I mean I got a drink poured on my head last time and I really don't think things can go worse than that in the space of a night."

Ryou's eyes widened. "You got a drink poured on you?"

"Yeah, some idiot obviously felt like being homophobic or something, it took ages to get out of my hair this morning."

Ryou thought about this before laughing weakly. He knew what the Egyptian was like where his hair was concerned.

"So what time did you get home?" he asked as he picked up his mug and took a sip.

"Around midday I think. I, um, slept on a park bench…"

"What?"

"Yeah…"

Ryou looked at him in slight shock. "So you two didn't…"

Realising what he was implying Marik frantically shook his head. "No, he left as soon as we got attacked, I don't think he was even that bothered about me. It was only a few minutes after you'd left, I think."

Nodding, his housemate said, "Well if you want to go back I suppose we can go back. If you're right about him not being too bothered then maybe…" Ryou seemed to realise he was still talking aloud and quickly shut up, leaving Marik to guess what he had been about to say.

Truth be told he was a little concerned about Ryou's attention towards Mariku. He didn't think the tall man was particularly bothered about commitment, and he happened to know that was what Ryou craved from a relationship. He hoped Ryou wouldn't end up hurt by all of this.

"We'll go out around the same time as last night then," Marik said, breaking the silence, and Ryou nodded in agreement.

"Don't forget it's your turn to cook," he said distantly before heading off towards the living room. Marik heard the TV being switched on and decided to leave Ryou to his thoughts.

Anyway, he needed to start the food soon if he wanted enough time to get ready for the evening.


	5. Interesting Plans

**Hi there! I'm back for another chapter to brighten up your Monday. I loved writing this one, it was so much fun! Anyway, it's a long one so I hope you enjoy, there's much thiefshipping and deathshipping ahead, but that's what you're here for, right? :P**

**LazyGaga- Thanks so much! I'm really glad you like the story, I hope you keep reading. :D**

**Enough of me, enjoy the super long chapter!**

_Chapter 5- Interesting Plans_

Mariku hadn't been too surprised to see Bakura asleep on his couch when he walked into his apartment. In fact, he would probably have been more surprised if he wasn't, for the short tempered Brit lived a fair distance from the town centre (or so he said- Mariku had never been to his place) and usually needed somewhere to crash.

It had been half past six in the morning by the time Mariku had returned from the larger clubs in the middle of town, and he had headed straight for the shower to get rid of the residue drink that was still stuck in his hair. He had been intending to talk to Bakura after he had cleaned himself up, but on exiting the bathroom he had found the sofa to be empty.

Last night Mariku had searched everywhere for his friend after his prospective lay had run off, but couldn't find him anywhere. So in traditional Mariku style he had hit every club and bar in the middle of town and come back alone hours later after he could remember where he lived.

Cursing Bakura's absence- for he really wanted to know where he had gone- Mariku had instead headed to bed himself to sleep off the alcohol in his system.

This is how he came to be sat on the edge of his bed hours later, wondering whether he could be bothered to text Bakura or not. Deciding he would simply seek his friend out in the club later he threw his phone onto the single bed and set about finding some pants. He didn't doubt Bakura would be out tonight, for it was a Saturday and 'Hole in the Wall' did awesome discounts on drinks. Knowing Bakura was well on his way to being an alcoholic, Mariku assumed he would be seeing the white haired man soon.

Finally locating a pair of black pants, he pulled them on and headed out into the main part of his apartment. It wasn't too large, for Mariku didn't like to draw attention to himself, but it had all the necessary home comforts. A sofa and TV to the right next to a window that offered him a view of the streets below, a kitchenette built into a small alcove on the left, and a table with a couple of chairs set against the wall next to the bedroom.

Mariku knew he could easily afford something a lot more spacious but didn't see the point. The money he earned from his job wasn't exactly… legal. It would seem strange for him to live somewhere that required a lot of rent when on paper he didn't earn much. Sure, he had a legal job: he worked part time at a restaurant down the road just so he had a job to put on the countless forms he had to sign, but most of the money was otherwise obtained.

Mariku smirked. He liked his other job. Not even Bakura knew what he _really _did for a living, and the Brit would never know.

Pulling his thoughts back into the present Mariku headed to the kitchenette and proceeded to make himself a steak. While it was cooking he leaned on the counter and thought back to last night.

Clearly he had chosen the wrong guy to satisfy his cravings: the smaller boy had run off the second the drink had touched his head and Mariku had seen no more of him. He didn't look any older than about nineteen, so he had probably been a little intimidated by Mariku, who stood at a height of six foot two and looked every one of his twenty three years.

No, he wouldn't bother seeking the other tanned boy out again. The pale boy though… Mariku thought he had caught a glimpse of him hiding behind that blonde haired prat, looking pretty upset. The tall Egyptian had taken an interest in the small boy a few months ago when he had first come into 'Hole in the Wall' with a few friends, looking round with wide eyes and an air of innocence. Mariku had instantly been struck by the contrast between him and Bakura: they both had white hair, but while Bakura's eyes were a muddy reddish-brown, the smaller boy had brown eyes that seemed to sparkle even across the room.

Normally Mariku would have gone over and tried to talk to the white haired boy the very same night, but this time it was different. He had wanted to observe the boy for a while so he could plan his approach. Last night Mariku had been intending to get close to the boy, but by the time he had reached the upper bar his target had gone, leaving his friend alone. Feeling an irrational spike of anger, Mariku had decided to pull his friend instead, and the results had been rather to his liking.

If the small boy had been upset, there was a possibility that Mariku would be able to make his move soon. He made up his mind as he tipped the steak onto his plate. No, the white haired boy wasn't getting away with anything tonight.

What Mariku didn't know was that, as he planned his moves, the target of his interest was doing a very similar thing.

Ryou was laying down on his bed staring at the ceiling, trying to work out what to do when he and Marik went to the club again later. Of course, an ideal scenario would be for Mariku to come and talk to him, but that probably wouldn't happen now: Ryou knew the tall man had seen him behind Jonouchi last night and he didn't seem like the type of guy who empathised particularly well.

Ryou still wasn't too sure what about the man was so attractive: he looked so much like Marik it was almost uncanny, and Ryou definitely didn't fancy his housemate. Maybe it was the other's deep purple gaze which Ryou sometimes found following him. His eyes were a few shades darker than Marik's and more intense too.

Ryou closed his eyes. He would just deal with the situation when it arose. There was a knock on his door and he heard Marik's voice calling him for dinner.

"Coming," he replied before pushing himself off the bed and heading to the kitchen. The smell of pasta greeted him as he stepped into the room, followed by the sight of Marik putting two plates of spaghetti onto the table.

"So, we need a plan," the Egyptian said matter-of-factly as they sat down to eat.

"We do?"

"Of course. We can't have another scenario like last night, Ryou."

Ryou nodded in agreement. "I really don't think you can plan for something like this, Marik. There are too many external factors."

"That's true. But we at least need some sort of general rule."

"What would you suggest?"

Marik thought for a moment. "If he doesn't come over directly to talk to you within say, half an hour, I leave you alone for a while and see if he takes any notice. Does that sound reasonable?"

Ryou pondered the suggestion. "I suppose that is an idea," he said, "though I wouldn't know how to respond even if he did come over."

"Ah you'll think of something," Marik smiled before taking a large mouthful of food.

Ryou shrugged slightly before turning to his own plate.

They finished the rest of the meal whilst discussing other things such as Ryou's classes and Marik's painting, and afterwards headed into the living room to play a video game until it was time to go out. At around nine o'clock Ryou sent his housemate to go and get ready, and at ten o'clock they finally exited the apartment.

"Honestly, Marik, you take forever to get ready! Are you trying to impress someone?" the smaller teen said teasingly as they started walking into town.

Marik, who had just been checking his wallet to count his money, reflexively blushed before replying, "No!" It was true. He didn't take ages to look good for a specific person, he did it for himself. Unfortunately for him, Ryou had picked up on his blush.

"There is someone, isn't there?"

"No, there really isn't."

"I think you're lying!"

"Think what you will, I'm not trying to impress someone. I don't like anyone, Ryou." Except Bakura. But Marik wasn't factoring the annoying driver into this argument. And besides, he didn't like Bakura- he was irritating and enjoyed interrupting Marik's careful train of thought. The fact that he had shown a hint of niceness just before his interview meant nothing at all. And of course his eyes. But eyes meant nothing if the person behind them was an arsehole.

"Marik, you've gone all quiet and thoughtful," Ryou said a minute later.

"Hm?"

"Exactly. You totally space out sometimes, you know."

"Yeah I do. Sorry Ry, just thinking."

"About? Is it the mystery person?"

Marik gave Ryou a playful push. "For the last time, I don't like anyone! When would I even meet someone? I'm usually at home."

"Whatever you say," Ryou said airily with a sly smile on his face. "No doubt you'll tell me all about it later."

"Over my dead body," Marik replied.

"Depends how much you drink," the smaller teen laughed as they continued walking. "I'm sure you'll be keen to tell me though, you're always so truthful when you're drunk."

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know," Marik said regretfully. It was a fair point, he always seemed to be letting things slip after a few drinks. Well that wouldn't happen tonight, because there was nothing to tell. More than likely he would never see Bakura again, and he could get back to living his life as he should, without any annoying interruptions.

As they headed into the main part of the city and got closer to their destination, Marik realised Ryou looked rather nervous. His eyes were a little wider than usual and his face was flushed.

"You ok, Ry?" he asked the other.

Ryou nodded. "I'm fine. I just don't know if I can do this…"

"Oh no, you're not backing out now. Come on, pull yourself together!" Marik said, perhaps slightly harsher than he had intended to.

Ryou nodded and took a deep breath as they headed down the narrow street where 'Hole in the Wall' was situated. There was no queue tonight but Marik put that down to their timing: they were a little earlier than they had been the night before so the crowds weren't out in force as they would be later.

"Come on," he said to Ryou, whose steps were getting smaller and smaller as they neared the door. "We both know you can't keep going on like this. You need closure."

After a small amount of protest from Ryou they eventually got into the bar, which wasn't too crowded yet, luckily. They were able to make their way to the upper bar with relative ease, and once there they each ordered a long drink and settled down to wait.

About half an hour later Marik, who was sat facing the entrance, saw someone resembling Mariku walking through the door and nudged Ryou.

"I think he's here."

The smaller teen turned his head slightly to see that Mariku had indeed just walked in, and was turning his head as though searching for someone. Ryou quickly looked away before he caught his eye.

"Now what?" he asked.

"We wait," Marik replied, seeming rather calm considering he and Mariku had been making out last night. "Give it a while and I'm pretty sure he'll come over, though maybe not when I'm around."

Ryou gave a little nod before taking a sip of his drink. He was perfectly fine to wait.

Meanwhile, down on the ground floor Mariku had given up searching for Bakura and headed to his favourite place: the bar. Ordering a drink he pulled out his phone to text his elusive friend but quickly thought better of it. He didn't want the white haired male to think he was actually bothered about his presence or anything.

He sighed and pocketed his phone. He wasn't even too sure himself why he was here tonight: sure he wanted to see Bakura and ask where the hell he had gone last night, but normally that wouldn't drive him to come out. His eyes roamed the upper level until they landed on two teenage boys sat together. The pale one had his back to him, whilst his lookalike was determinedly not looking at him.

Of course, that was why he was here: the soft looking white haired boy.

Sighing again Mariku settled for biding his time with his drink until he felt able to go upstairs. There was no way he'd be able to talk to his little teen until the annoying lookalike was gone. He was seriously tempted to text Bakura to tell him to get his ass over here and help him out with that, but that practically screamed desperate: something Mariku was not.

Upstairs, Ryou was making Marik give him a commentary of the tall man's movements.

"He's looking away towards the bar and taking a drink," Marik said carefully, knowing if he didn't report back properly Ryou would get more stressed. "I don't know what he ordered though, I couldn't see the bartender making the drink."

Ryou nodded slightly and Marik noticed his hand wasn't totally steady on the glass he was nursing. He wondered whether that was alcohol or nerves.

"Is anyone with him?"

"Nope, though he just pulled out his phone before putting it away again."

"What if he's meeting someone here?" Ryou asked frantically. "What if he already has a date? I think we should go, Mar'. He obviously has someone else!"

"Relax Ry," Marik said gently, grabbing his friend's arm to stop him from jumping out of his seat. "He isn't with anyone and I saw him look this way when he first sat down. You need to calm down, I think."

Ryou offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry, it's just that I know it's now or never isn't it?"

"Um, yes?" Marik didn't really follow his logic but decided to agree anyway: he didn't fancy trying to follow that particular logic at the moment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mariku throw a quick glance in their direction.

"He looked at you again," he reported back to his smaller friend, who was currently choosing a new drink from the menu.

Nodding to show he had heard, Ryou ordered one of the stronger spirits on the menu before taking a breath. Once he had taken a large gulp he looked over his shoulder at the downstairs bar.

"Oh why did I have to go and like someone like that," he moaned.

"Like what?" Marik asked curiously.

"Oh never mind," Ryou muttered before taking another drink.

"I think you need to slow down a little, you don't want to be a totally drunk mess when he comes over, do you?"

"If he comes over."

"He will," Marik said firmly. "I'm going to take my leave now, I'll be back in five minutes- that will give him plenty of time for him to get his ass up here and talk to you."

Ryou looked at him like a startled bunny. "But I'm scared, Mar'!"

"Oh come on," said Marik as he slipped off his barstool. "If he doesn't come I'll be back before you know it, and if he does then you finally get to talk to him. It's a win-win situation!"

Before Ryou could reply Marik had wandered off to the toilets, leaving him alone.

Downstairs, Mariku smiled.

Marik finally located the toilets in the far corner of the club but didn't go in. Instead he lounged against the wall and started counting his five minutes. He hoped he'd been right in his guess, otherwise Ryou would want to leave the minute Marik returned to him.

After three minutes Marik bean to slowly push through the crowd until he had a decent view of the bar. He could see Ryou's white head quite easily, and he was talking to someone. Moving a little to the right Marik was able to see who it was. Yes, it was Mariku! Marik internally cheered as he watched the exchange.

Mariku seemed to be very relaxed and confident in himself, while Ryou was projecting a shy, coy aura. It seemed to be working.

On the fourth minute, Mariku's smile widened as he offered his hand to the other, and they disappeared into the crowd, presumably to dance. Now the coast was clear Marik returned to the bar, smiling at his friend's success as he sat down. Ordering a drink he cast a quick glance behind him and saw Ryou and Mariku towards the edge of the crowd, dancing together. As Marik looked on the taller man wound his arms around Ryou and pulled him closer.

Marik turned away, wanting to give them some privacy, and saw that his drink had arrived in front of him. Taking a gulp he rested his head on his hand and prepared to wait. He hadn't thought through the consequences for himself when he had left Ryou: now he was sat alone and would be for the rest of the night. He couldn't even leave in case Ryou needed him. Great.

He was just considering getting his phone out and downloading a new game when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Marik turned and found himself looking into the eyes that he had been trying so hard not to think about for the last three days.

"Bakura," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"Who else?" came the nonchalant reply as Bakura slid into Ryou's empty seat. Truth be told he really hadn't been expecting to see the smaller Egyptian here tonight: he'd only come because Mariku would be pissed without an explanation of where he went the night before.

"Well you get all sorts of types in here," Marik said, and Bakura realised he was answering his rhetorical question. "You could have been anyone."

"That I could," Bakura laughed before ordering himself a drink. "So how's my interesting customer been holding up? You miss me?"

Marik's response was to choke attractively on his drink. Of course he hadn't missed the driver's constant interruptions and sarcastic attitude! Who did he think he was, coming in here and presuming Marik wanted to talk to him? Unfortunately he couldn't articulate any of this and by the time he had stopped coughing Bakura was already talking again.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. I don't suppose you've seen a really tall spiky-haired guy around have you? I appear to have lost him."

Marik set his drink down before looking at Bakura properly for the first time. He looked tired and more than a little stressed, and his hair was a little wilder than usual, as though he hadn't even bothered to brush it before setting out. His eyes however, which were currently fixed on Marik, were as vivid as he had remembered.

Realising Bakura had asked a question Marik quickly tore his eyes away from his face and replied, "You wouldn't be talking about Mariku, would you?"

Bakura internally smirked before he feigned shock. "You know Mariku? Of course I mean Mariku, do you know where he is?"

'Oh God', Marik thought.' What if Bakura and Mariku are together and Mariku is cheating?' Bakura would never speak to him again! Even though that wouldn't affect Marik at all, of course. That train of thought was stopped dead when he realised Bakura was laughing at him.

"Don't worry," he said between chuckles. "Mariku is just a friend. Your face though, you looked like you were going to make a run for it!"

"Hey, that wasn't funny," Marik said, glaring at Bakura. "If you were together it would have meant serious shit for my friend, that's why I was worried."

"Oh?"

Marik turned and pointed to the edge of the crowd, where Ryou and Mariku were- wait, what were they even doing? Why were they doing that? Marik turned away quickly before the image became too cemented on his brain. He never wished to see Ryou doing that to anyone ever again.

"Well Mariku did always like pinning people to walls," Bakura remarked coolly as he too turned back to his drink. "How did the interview go?"

Marik was so taken aback by the change in conversation that it took him a few seconds to forget the disturbing mental image and work out what Bakura was referring to. Oh right, the job interview. "Terrible," he said. "I was late and he wanted me to draw fucking cartoons for a whole year. The whole thing lasted about five minutes before he realised I was hungover and kicked me out."

"That sucks," Bakura said sympathetically. "Believe me, I know what it's like to fail at a job interview- I've certainly had enough!" He took a long drink before putting the glass down and staring ruefully at it.

There was silence for a moment before Marik responded. "What's the deal with you anyway? You don't seem to care what you do with your life and you don't care if you get fired. Why?" It had been a question playing on Marik's mind for a while, for Bakura's attitude intrigued him the first time they had met.

Bakura thought for a moment before answering. "Well I guess I've had a lot of jobs and I don't really get attached to them anymore. They all pass me by really, I often get fired within a few months for being late or rude to customers. I'm past caring, I suppose. My last job was at a convenience store, but they insisted on putting me on the early morning shifts, which didn't work well with my drinking habits. I only lasted a few weeks before they fired me, and it won't be long before someone complains about my lack of manners in this job too, and then I'll be out of a job again."

Bakura looked pointedly at Marik after this statement, and Marik remembered how he had threatened to call Bakura's employer and get him fired. Bakura had laughed at him.

"And after telling you that you at least have to tell me your name," Bakura added, a small smile on his face.

Marik hesitated. The demand was certainly not unreasonable, but by telling Bakura his name it would make the exchange more… Personal. Did he want to go 'personal' with Bakura? Yes, yes he did.

"Marik. My name is Marik."

Bakura nodded. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Marik raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. He was curious as to why Bakura was acting so friendly all of a sudden. He didn't seem to be making an effort to annoy him and Marik found himself actually liking the conversation. Now that was weird.

"So you know Mariku, then?" Marik asked, figuring he may as well try and get some info to give to Ryou later.

"Yeah, he can be a prize asshole sometimes but he's alright. At least he can hold down a job, unlike me."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, he works at some restaurant just down the road from here."

Marik nodded. Ryou would be happy when he found- the British boy loved trying new kinds of food. Speaking of Ryou… Marik turned and looked for his friend, but he and Mariku seemed to have disappeared, for he couldn't see them anymore.

Bakura noticed the look and said, "So your friend likes my friend and my friend likes your friend, huh?"

"It would seem that way," Marik replied. "And they've also disappeared."

"Hm, that may not be a great thing," Bakura said slowly.

"Why?"

"Mariku can get a little… Rough. Only sometimes though. I hope your friend is ok."

Marik's eyes widened. "Define rough."

"It's nothing to worry about, forget I said anything," Bakura said quickly. "I'm sure your friend will be fine." Eager to distract the Egyptian, Bakura bought him another drink and continued the conversation. Eventually Marik seemed to forget about their friends and focussed his attention solely on Bakura.

For his part, Bakura had no idea what he was doing. The only thing he knew was that he didn't want to let this boy leave unless he was going with him. That in itself was odd: Bakura had never really cared about anyone other than himself, but that had come with the upbringing he had gone through. He was selfish, that he knew, but right now he wasn't even thinking about himself, his attention was totally on Marik.

"So, whereabouts are you from?" Marik asked during a lull in the conversation. "Your accent is British so how did you end up in Japan?"

Bakura sighed. He had been hoping to avoid questions like this one. It wasn't in his nature to talk about his past. He decided to give as little information as possible.

"Well I was born in England, my parents died, I had to fend for myself, and I moved to Japan a few years ago. Nothing really interesting about me. Why are you here? You're from Egypt, right?" Bakura said this all in a rush as though the words might burn him, and when he had finished Marik was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Not interesting, huh?"

"I don't talk about it," Bakura said shortly.

"Fair enough," Marik replied, shrugging. "And yes, I'm from Egypt. How did you know?"

"Mariku is too. You look alike."

"Really, I hadn't noticed," Marik said sarcastically before smiling.

This time it was Bakura's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I was just checking," he said lightly before taking another drink. "Why d'you leave?"

Marik looked down as memories from his past life flooded his brain. "It's not something I like to talk about either," he said quietly.

"Oh? How come?"

Marik couldn't answer. His father. Beatings. Bruises. Dark nights. Crying. Alone. He didn't want to think about it but they were all suddenly coming back to him and he couldn't stop them. He pressed a hand to his head.

Having tried to keep the memories at bay for so long they had built up in the back of his mind until they became too much, and now with one simple question the barrier keeping them away had broken. Blood. Threats. Punishment. Marik felt as though he was going to collapse from the weight of them.

"Hey, are you ok, Marik?"

Bakura. Bakura had put a hand on his arm and was looking at him with genuine concern through those piercing eyes. Marik knew he probably looked terrified right now and he could feel himself shaking, but he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Pain. Hatred. Fear.

Bakura's eyes.

Despair. Locked doors.

Concerned eyes.

His father.

A practical stranger.

It wasn't even a choice.

Marik chose Bakura over the memories, and before he knew what he was doing he had half stood and pressed himself against the white haired man, giving him a hug. The music seemed to fade and the world shrank to himself and Bakura, who after a moment's hesitation wound his arms around the scared Egyptian. Marik fought to supress the memories, and little by little he was able to build up the mental block again. He fought to forget.

It took a few minutes until Marik felt well enough to come back to the present. He realised he was still holding onto Bakura, and he quickly moved away, embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered, looking away as he sat back down. "That happens sometimes."

Bakura was regarding him with an almost sympathetic look. "I understand," he said after a little hesitation. "Can't say I had the best childhood either."

They looked at each other and Marik smiled weakly. He wouldn't push Bakura to talk about his past, hell knew he himself couldn't even begin to explain his own.

Bakura was about to say something else when there was a shout from behind him.

"Marik!"

Marik whirled his head round at the sound of Ryou's voice and almost instantly his friend came into view. His shirt was undone and he appeared to be clutching his neck and side firmly. There was a look of terror and pain on his usually kind face.

"Ry, what the hell happened to you?" Marik asked, rushing to his friend and supporting him, his own troubles temporarily forgotten. Ryou seemed ready to pass out.

"He… Mariku… Get me out! Get me away!" the smaller boy gasped frantically.

It was at this moment Marik noticed the blood on Ryou's hands.

"What the hell?" The Egyptian rounded on Bakura, who was watching from his seat at the bar. "What the fuck did Mariku do to him?"

"I told you he was rough," Bakura said as he stood and hurried over to them. "But he's gone a while without an incident now, I thought he would be alright to leave him alone." He tried to examine the wounds Ryou was sporting, but the smaller boy pulled away, shrinking into Marik's side.

"I can't believe you let him be alone with Ryou if you knew he was like that," Marik practically yelled. He was already ashamed of his breakdown in front of Bakura and now the man was telling him he could have prevented Ryou being injured. It was too much for Marik.

Taking a firmer hold on Ryou's arm he fixed Bakura with a glare. "You stay away from us," he said icily. "And tell Mariku if I ever see him near Ryou again I'll kill him."

Before Bakura could reply the Egyptian said something to his friend before leading him away quickly. They disappeared from Bakura's line of sight in a matter of seconds, leaving him feeling slightly sick and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Things had been going so well with Marik and then… Mariku had gone and fucked it up. Marik would never talk to him now.

Defeated, Bakura turned back to the bar and sat heavily on his chair. He hoped the pale kid would be okay, but he had seen Mariku do worse. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the spiky haired head of the crazy Egyptian searching the crowd. Catching sight of Bakura he came over, ignoring the glare that was being directed at him.

"Have you seen a little pale kid come this way? Kind of looks like you but cuter?" he asked, a slightly eerie gleam in his eyes. When Bakura didn't respond he waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, you in there? I said have you-"

Bakura punched him in the face.


	6. Moving On

**Another chapter! Thanks so much to all my reviews for taking the time to leave feedback, it really means a lot to me. I'm kind of letting the characters run with this story here, I've established their personalities so I'm just letting them take over and deal with it. :3**

**Huge chapter coming up after this one, but for now, a little character development and a little bit of angst. Anyway, onto the chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

_Chapter 6- Moving On_

Marik sat on Ryou's bed staring out of the window sadly. It was getting light outside and he still hadn't gone to bed yet. Ryou himself was currently asleep in the bed behind him and he was breathing evenly, thankfully. He had only just fallen asleep after Marik had finished cleaning him up: it had taken him ages to calm down enough to relax. Marik had been able to piece together what had happened on the journey home, even though Ryou had been barely conscious at the time.

"_Get me away!" Ryou was gasping over and over as they finally gained access to the alley outside the club. _

_Marik paused to steady the smaller teen who was violently shaking and struggling for breath._

"_It's ok," he said as calmly as he could. "Ry, it's ok, you're safe, we're outside now."_

"_No, it's not safe, we need to leave!" Ryou's voice was growing more urgent by the second and a group of people nearby were starting to give them strange looks._

"_Calm down, it's going to be ok," Marik said, trying to keep a level head, which was difficult as he was still recovering from earlier. "Can you walk?"_

_Ryou pressed his hands tighter against his wounds and moaned in reply._

_Sighing, Marik picked the small teen up bridal style, which earned a few mutters, and set off home as fast as he could._

"_We need to get you back to the apartment, Ry. Can you hear me? We're going home."_

_The white haired boy moaned again before shuddering. Marik guessed he was going into shock, but there didn't seem to be enough blood to merit a hospital trip. The best thing to do would be to get home as fast as possible._

"_Marik… He… He bit me," Ryou gasped out. "He said he wanted to make me s-scream and so he h-hurt me. And when I r-ran he said he would find m-me. He called me his l-little l-light and he wouldn't let me g-go." He dissolved into sobs again as he clutched his neck. "M-Marik, it really h-hurts."_

"_I'm going to kill him. Bakura too," Marik growled, more to himself than Ryou._

"_Who's Bakura?" Ryou asked distantly, as though he just needed something to distract him._

"_The arsehole that's responsible for this," Marik replied shortly. "He knew Mariku was a liability but he left him alone with you."_

_Ryou's sobbing only increased at this, and they said nothing more as Marik carried the small teen home and sorted out his wounds._

So Mariku was insane, that much was clear, Marik thought as the sun rose fully, casting a warm light into Ryou's room. And Bakura had known… That was the worst part: Marik had been prepared to trust the person that had helped him when he'd had his breakdown, but it turned out that Bakura really didn't care about the safety of others at all.

It was always the people who got close to you that hurt you. Marik cursed himself for not remembering that sooner. Rising from the bed he cast a final glance at his best friend before leaving the room, heading for his own bed at last.

Tiredly he pulled his shirt and pants off before crawling into bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly as he would need to be up when Ryou was awake again. Unfortunately his overactive brain kept him awake.

He had trusted Bakura. He had finally trusted someone who had seen him at his most vulnerable, only to find out moments later that they weren't to be trusted at all. And to think that he could have perhaps had some sort of feelings towards the white haired man... Marik crushed that thought before it could grow to haunt him- he could never have felt anything for such an annoying, arrogant idiot who kept getting fired.

Pulling the covers closer around him he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out all thoughts of the evening, and eventually he fell asleep.

Marik was woken a couple of hours later by a tentative knocking at his door. The sun had risen fully now: he put a hand over his face to shield his eyes from the light.

"Yeah?" he called sleepily.

Ryou opened the door and entered, and once Marik's eyes adjusted to the brightness he gasped. The small teen looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, which were rather red as though he'd been crying, and his face was paler than usual. But the worst part was the bruises. They ran up his exposed arms and across the part of his neck that wasn't covered by bandages, as though someone had grabbed him and not let go. The Egyptian hadn't noticed them a few hours ago.

Marik was out of bed in an instant, crossing the room to meet his friend who looked as though he was about to collapse.

"Marik… I don't feel so good…" he said as Marik took him by the shoulder and guided him to the bed.

"You should really be sleeping, you had a terrible night," Marik replied as Ryou sat down slowly, wincing as he did so. "How's your neck?"

Ryou's hands moved up to the bandages that covered most of his collar bone and neck and grimaced. "Still painful, but that's only to be expected." His voice broke on the last word and before Marik knew what was happening the small Brit had burst into tears and was sobbing into his chest.

"I was such an idiot, Mar'!" he wailed pitifully. "I wasted so much time and thoughts on that guy and he turned out to be a total psychopath. I'm so stupid for thinking it would be okay, I could even tell he was crazy: he had that 'bad-boy' thing going on but I thought somehow I could make it better!" He took a deep breath. "That was a fucking brilliant plan, wasn't it?"

Ryou's voice finally gave out and he was left leaning on Marik trying to stop his tears. Marik, for his part, was surprised at his friend's outburst, it wasn't very often that his gentle friend had a bad word to say about anyone and he never swore unless he was under a lot of stress.

Honestly though, Marik agreed with his friend. Ryou looked so innocent that he wouldn't have thought someone would have the heart to harm him when he clearly couldn't defend himself. Then again, if Mariku was some kind of sadist then it was only to be expected… He probably thought of Ryou as some sort of victim, the psycho.

"Come on, Ry. I think you need some more sleep," Marik said gently. "It is Saturday, after all. You can have a lie-in."

Ryou sniffled a little. "I was supposed to be meeting Yugi for a study session later," he said sadly. "I'll have to cancel now."

Marik nodded. "I think that'll be for the best. You don't want any awkward questions, do you?"

"No, I don't. And I don't want to have to explain to Jou and Ryuji what happened either."

"Okay then, let's get you back to bed. You can text Yugi, I'll check your neck and you can sleep in for the rest of the day. You know I'll help you through this, Ry."

"But it's my turn to do lunch and dinner," Ryou protested weakly as the Egyptian put an arm around his waist and helped him up.

"Don't worry about it, I'll do it," Marik replied.

Once he'd got Ryou back to bed and suitably dosed up on painkillers Marik was at a loss as to what to do. Obviously he couldn't leave the house: Ryou needed him, and he wasn't sure whether he would be able to work on his painting when so many thoughts were racing around his head. Bakura, Mariku, Ryou, Egypt, they were all chasing each other around his tired mind and all he wanted to do was block them out.

Marik opted to go and sit in his studio and think, surrounded by the comfort of his own paintings and familiar art supplies. He was still there, curled up on the old sofa staring at the sketch of himself and his siblings, hours later when Ryou awoke and came looking for him.

"Marik?"

"Yeah?"

Ryou hesitated before stepping fully into the room and closing the door. He walked slowly over to the sofa and sat down next to Marik, and appeared to be trying to think of a way to say something. Marik sat patiently, trying not to pressure his friend.

After a few moments Ryou seemed to give up and instead said, "Who's Bakura?"

Marik instantly tensed at the name and attempted to supress the surprisingly strong emotions he felt on hearing the name. "Nobody," he said abruptly, causing Ryou to look a little taken aback.

"But last night you said this was his fault…" he replied uncertainly.

Marik sighed and decided he might as well confess. Who knew, maybe it would help him to make sense of the situation more himself. Plus Ryou deserved to know.

"Bakura is a taxi driver who met on Wednesday night and again on Thursday when I went for my interview. He seemed to want to annoy me and even told me his name in case I wanted to get him fired for being too irritating, but he was also nice to me just before I went for the interview, offering to wait for me for some reason. At the time I was sure he was doing it to spite me but now… I'm not so sure he was…"

Marik paused to recollect his thoughts for a second before ploughing on. If he didn't say this now he'd never have to courage to say it again.

"Last night he came up to me at the bar when you'd left with Mariku and started talking to me. We spoke about a lot of different things and he was really nice to me: I thought we were getting somewhere but… Then he asked about my past." Marik had to stop again and Ryou gave him a sympathetic look. He knew about the Egyptian's past and knew how difficult it was for him to talk about it.

"And I kind of had a breakdown," Marik continued. "But he didn't leave me as I expected, he stayed and helped me through it. This is going to sound stupid but I thought that he really understood me. As though he had been through something similar too but didn't say it… I thought there was a connection… But then you came running and I found out what he'd done." He stopped talking suddenly, as though he'd run out of words, but really there just wasn't anything more to say.

Truthfully Marik didn't want to blame Bakura, he really didn't, but it was his poor judgement that had led to Ryou being hurt, and Marik couldn't forgive that. Beside him, Ryou had laid a hand on his arm to comfort him and now he spoke up.

"You know what we need to do, Mar'? We need to move on from this. All of it. The club, Mariku, Bakura, everything. Put it behind us and try and forget. It's the only way." The small teen's eyes were determined as he spoke, and Marik could tell there was no way he could get him to change his view on the matter. If Ryou wanted to forget, he would force himself to forget.

"I feel as though I've wasted the last few months wondering about this guy and it just ended up hurting me," the small Brit continued. "The whole thing was a mistake, I think you'll agree."

Resigning himself, Marik nodded. "If you're sure that's for the best, then that's what we'll do."

Ryou smiled sadly. "It'll be hard, but I need to forget about it for my sanity's sake. I need to move on."

Before Marik could reply the Brit stood slowly and left the room, leaving the former to his musings once again.

Could he do it? Could he really forget about the last few days? He sighed and stood to put the sketch pad back in the paint box, eye catching the rows of colourful paints as he did so. He thought about the russet colour hidden amongst the other tubes. He would have to use that colour in his current piece if he wanted it to look right. No, he probably wouldn't forget easily, he could admit that much to himself at least. But he would try for Ryou's sake. He would try.

He tried for the rest of the day, and the day after that. The days turned into weeks and the weeks slowly turned into months. All the time Marik tried to forget. He would have succeeded too, he thought, if he didn't have to keep using the dark red colour on the sunset part of his painting. Every time he delved into his paint box that russet tube would appear, almost as though it was taunting him to think of the very thing he was trying to forget.

He often managed to push the thoughts to the back of his mind, but on the odd occasion he would find himself simply curling up on the sofa instead of making progress on his painting. It was these times he had to wonder what he was even doing with his life.

He didn't even know anymore.

The first month was the hardest. Ryou's neck was slow to head and the bandages served as painful reminder to both teens. Ryou, determined not to get behind on his coursework, was forced to wear high necked tops and jumpers to avoid the awkward questions he was bound to get. Jou and Ryuji didn't make matters any better by commenting on them constantly and trying to get information out of Ryou about the 'mystery guy'. Marik had a feeling Yugi knew something was up but he doubted the shy teen would remark.

Marik started seeing a lot more of Yugi and Ryou's other course friends in the second month. Things started to get a little easier: Ryou no longer needed the bandages and the bruises on his arms disappeared, but neither of the teens were too eager to go out into the city at night. Ryou began inviting his friends over to the apartment a lot more often, for parties that usually went on well into the night. The parties grew bigger as people invited their friends over too, and soon it became uncommon for Ryou and Marik to have the apartment to themselves for an evening.

Marik could understand Ryou's reasons for hosting so many events: they were ideal distractions for them both and by surrounding themselves with people it made the loss of certain others easier to bear. For this reason Marik didn't begrudge his housemate any of the evenings. Between the parties and catering for semi-hungover people the next morning, Marik continued to work on his current painting. He only had a couple of layers left to do by the end of the second month: it was almost finished.

During the third month he got a phone call. Marik had woken up early to finish his current layer of paint, declining Ryou's invitation to the get-together last night so he could do so, and he was the only one awake when the trill of the phone sounded at ten o'clock. Putting his brush in some water and balancing his palette on the side table Marik headed out of his studio and into the living room.

Unsurprisingly the room was occupied, as it was most days until around mid-afternoon. This time the sight of Honda and Anzu on the sofa greeted his gaze, and Marik took a moment to pray that Ryou snapped out of his partying attitude sometime soon. The apartment was slowly getting messier and Marik had a feeling people were starting to take Ryou's hospitality for granted. It wouldn't be long before people would start coming in even when there wasn't a party.

Sighing to himself Marik picked up the phone and headed into the kitchen to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is that Marik Ishtar?" a female voice greeted him from the other end of the line.

"It is," Marik replied as he headed to the fridge to find some orange juice. They didn't often get calls in the apartment but when they did they were usually for Ryou, so it was odd that the caller wanted to talk to Marik.

"My name is Kisara Mizu, Mr Ishtar. I own the company 'Ka Corporation' and would like to arrange an interview with you for our next project. Mr Pegasus gave me your portfolio a few months ago saying you were looking for a job and I have to say I'm impressed."

Marik dropped the carton of juice he was holding. Was this a joke? Ka Corp was one of the most famous art companies in Japan. It was huge! Not to mention it had links with KaibaCorp which was notoriously famous for its international business partners. This had to be a joke.

"Are you still looking for a job, Mr Ishtar?"

Marik swallowed. If this was the real deal he couldn't afford to fuck it up.

"I am, yes," he said. "I would be more than happy to come for an interview. May I ask more about the project?"

"Of course, sorry for the abruptness," Kisara said, laughing slightly. "The project is called: Unseen Artist. It takes an unknown with potential and allows their work to become recognised by promoting it throughout our own company and our affiliates. We would be funding your work, any equipment and supplies you need would be paid for, and you would have a deadline to work to. I see potential in your art and would like very much to meet you."

Marik tried to speak but was unable to. This was his dream job! If he could do this then he'd finally be able to make a living from something he loved. He cleared his throat before trying to speak again.

"Thank you, Ms Mizu. I'd be more than happy to come for an interview," he said, trying to keep the euphoria out of his voice.

"Excellent. Are you free next Wednesday at eleven o'clock? You would need to bring a present painting and proof of identification."

Marik took exactly two seconds to work out that he was free before saying, "I am, yes. Do you have the address?"

Kisara gave him the address of the company before saying goodbye and hanging up. Marik stood in front of the open refrigerator in shock, still holding the phone. Had that really just happened? Had he just got himself an interview with one of the most prestigious art companies in the country?

He thought he just had.

Slowly, Marik picked the juice carton off the floor and let the fridge door swing shut. He heard voices in the other room but opted to stay where he was. This was definitely the best thing that had happened to him since he had left Egypt. Even if he didn't get the job he would be having an interview with the owner of KaCorp!

Marik was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even register another presence in the kitchen until Ryou was stood right next to him.

"Are you okay?" the small teen asked. "You look really odd…"

"No," Marik said distantly. "No, Ry. I'm fine. I'm more than fine, actually. I just got another interview."

"Oh that's great, Mar'! Where?"

Marik slowly walked over to the cupboard where the glasses were kept and opened it. Barely able to keep the smile off his face, he grabbed a glass and turned to face his friend's confused-yet-happy face.

"Ka Corporation," he said, grinning as he watched Ryou's reaction.

The Brit's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell! Really?"

"Yeah! Apparently my last interviewer gave the owner of the company my portfolio and she liked it! I have an interview next Wednesday, Ry!" Marik couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice any longer- his life was finally looking up!

"Congrats, Marik, I'm so happy for you," Ryou said, smiling. "I really hope you get the job, you deserve it."

"Thanks," Marik said, still grinning. "Come on, let's celebrate by eating out somewhere later, my treat."

"Sounds great," Ryou said. "I have a study session with some people this afternoon but I'll be back around four, so we can go out this evening."

"Brilliant!"

Later, when Marik was working on finishing his painting and Ryou had left, he wondered if he dared to hope that their lifestyle would go back to how it was. The last few months had been tough: Ryou had turned to partying to block out his thoughts and Marik had joined in to a certain extent, but it was getting stale.

Maybe, if Marik could get the job and start paying for some of the rent, the pressure on his friend would decrease and they could finally get back to normal.

'Hell knows,' Marik thought as he put the finishing touches to his painting, 'I need a bit of normality.'


	7. Arabic Cursing

**Oh. My. God. This chapter was so hard to write! At this point I've decided to let the characters run away with this story by themselves, I just put the words on the page. This may be the last chapter for a while now, I'm going to university tomorrow to study physics which will be taking priority over this story, but don't worry, I won't abandon this story, ever! It will be finished!**

**Anyway, as an apology, here's a super long chapter that took forever to write and has much thiefshipping in it. I debated putting the rating up to M but decided against it, but be warned that this is a very high T rating! As in, very very high. You have been told!**

**Enjoy this chapter, please review and tell me what you think, thanks to all my reviewers so far, I hope you like!**

_Chapter 7- Arabic Cursing_

The Wednesday after the phone call found Marik awake two hours before he needed to be at KaCorp and sat at the kitchen table. His completed painting was carefully wrapped in a cardboard box and bubble wrap so it wouldn't be damaged, and he was currently sorting through a few smaller sketches in case Kisara wanted to see more of his recent repertoire.

There hadn't been any parties for a few nights now. The two teens had talked over a meal out about the recent change in lifestyle and both agreed it was time to go back to how things were. Ryou had stopped inviting people over and for the most part they had respected his wishes.

The Brit had also confirmed Marik's suspicions: by constantly socialising Ryou felt he was able to distract himself and he felt safer when there were other people around him. Within a couple of days the apartment was back to normal and Ryou seemed to feel okay with it. There was also the plus side that Marik could look in the fridge and actually find food, which was a novelty.

Marik looked up from his sketches when he heard footsteps coming down the hall, and a few seconds later he was greeted by Ryou's 'morning face'.

His housemate yawned and rubbed his eyes as he made his way over to the kettle to make himself tea. Ryou wasn't a morning person and Marik knew better than to interrupt the Brit's tea making process. Once Ryou had taken his place at the table with his tea and some cereal Marik deemed it safe to speak.

"Morning, Ry. Sleep okay?"

"Yes thanks. It took me a while to get to sleep though, I was worrying."

"Oh?"

"About your interview," Ryou said before starting on his cereal.

Marik didn't reply, opting to go back to his papers and try not to think about how nervous he was. If he blew the chance he'd never forgive himself, because he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for months. He only hoped he was good enough to qualify for the commission. At least this time he wasn't hungover and actually had all the correct paperwork, and as far as he knew he probably wouldn't be asked to draw cartoons again.

"Well I'm going to get ready, Ry. I'll be walking there and it's a fairly long way so I'd better set off early."

Ryou nodded and Marik left to get ready, leaving the Brit at the table with his cereal. Curiously, Ryou pulled the little pile of sketches towards him and looked through them, feeling slightly guilty as he did so. The top one was of a landscape with a lone tree in the centre, shaded to look as though the sun was setting, and the one below that was a close-up of the tree itself. Putting his spoon down Ryou picked up the papers and flicked through them.

There were about twenty altogether, some of nature, some of more urban architecture and a couple of people Marik knew. Ryou turned to the last picture, which was of someone he didn't recognise. It looked unfinished, as though Marik hadn't known all the details so had just left it. At first Ryou thought it could be himself, for the subject had white hair, but on closer inspection it looked to be styled a little differently, and Ryou was pretty sure he could never have such a mean look on his face.

Shrugging, the white haired teen put the sketches back where they were and finished eating his cereal. He was halfway through drinking his tea when Marik returned, wearing a rather smart shirt and his best jeans. He looked as though he might pass out from nerves.

"They're really good," Ryou said in an attempt to reassure his friend. "The sketches."

"Thanks," Marik said quietly. "I just hope they're good enough."

Ryou stood up and walked around the table to give his housemate a hug.

"If you get the job, then that's great. If you don't, you tried your best. I'm sure you'll be fine. From what you told me Kisara seemed to really like your work. I'm guessing the interview is just a formality."

Marik still looked unsure. "I suppose," he said slowly. "I can't really do anything more than I have done."

"Exactly," Ryou said, smiling as Marik picked up his sketches and put them in the box containing the painting. "I've got class today so I'll probably be out when you've finished but call me to let me know how it went, okay?"

"Sure," Marik said as he walked into the hall to find his shoes.

"And could you pick up some things from the shop on your way back?" Ryou asked. He felt bad asking his friend to do it but they really did need to stock up.

"Of course, Ry. If you give me a list I'll pick the stuff up."

Ryou went back to the kitchen and quickly wrote down the items they needed on a sheet of paper before heading back to the hall and handing it to Marik.

"Well, good luck," Ryou said, sounding as nervous as Marik felt. "And call me when it's over!"

Marik nodded again, tucked the painting more firmly under his arm and headed out of the door. It was quite warm outside now, so much so that Marik didn't even need a jacket. He knew he had plenty of time to get there, so he didn't rush, instead enjoying the slight breeze that ruffled his hair. There had never been any of that in Egypt. Unless there was a sandstorm the air was utterly still, yet another reason why Marik had hated the place.

He mentally shook himself and instead took the time to plan what he could say in the interview. Unlike last time he was determined to be prepared. Of course he didn't have an annoying taxi driver this time round but he really wasn't going to think about that right now. He focussed on art instead, thinking of all the reasons he had for wanting the job and all the things he could bring to the project.

He thought about nothing but the upcoming interview for the hour it took him to walk into town and find the address Kisara had given him the week before. It was a modest looking building, made of a light coloured material with the company logo emblazoned on the front of it. Marik had never been to this part of the city, but it seemed to be one of the nicer areas of Domino, and for that he was thankful.

Taking a deep breath he headed inside to the large reception area and made his way over to the desk. A brown-haired girl with green eyes looked up from the computer.

"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling.

"I have an interview with Ms Mizu at eleven," Marik replied. "My name is Marik."

"Okay, just a sec," the girl said, tapping at the keyboard. "Yep, there you are. Ms Mizu will be down shortly if you'd like to take a seat?"

"Thanks," Marik said, trying to keep his voice level.

"I'm Mana, by the way," the girl added. "If you need anything just give me a shout."

"Thanks again," Marik smiled before turning and heading over to one of the chairs. Sitting down and checking his watch he realised he had a good quarter of an hour before he was due to be interviewed, so he forced himself to keep focussed on his professional side and filter out everything else.

Eventually the lift at the other end of the reception area opened and a tall woman with long light blue hair stepped out. She had paler skin than Ryou's and was wearing a light brown dress with heels. Marik guessed this was his interviewer.

He was proved right when the woman came over to him and said, "You must be Marik?"

Marik nodded and stood, holding out his hand, which the woman shook.

"I'm Ms Mizu, if you'd like to follow me we can start the interview."

Before Marik could reply he found himself following the woman, who was fast becoming one of the most efficient people he had ever met. Instead of entering the elevator, Kisara headed straight past it and down a corridor, where she opened a door about halfway along on the right.

"Here we are," she said, smiling slightly. She gestured for Marik to enter and he found himself in a rather spacious room with neutral walls, bare except for a few abstract paintings on the far wall. If there had been a little more furniture, Marik would have guessed it was an office, but the amount of space seemed to indicate that it was a studio of some kind. Kisara entered the room after him and took a seat at one side of the desk in the centre of the room, and Marik quickly sat himself at the other side.

"So then, Marik. Let's see what you've brought for me to see," Kisara said.

Marik nodded and smiled as he opened the cardboard box.

Half an hour later, Marik left the Ka Corporation building, happily waving goodbye to Mana as he went. The second he got outside he pulled his phone out with shaking hands and called Ryou.

On the second ring his friend picked up. "Marik? How did it go?" Ryou sounded anxious.

Unable to keep back his happiness any longer, Marik shouted, "I did it, Ry! I got the job! I got the commission!" He had to stop himself from physically jumping up and down, instead settling for pacing and wringing his hands.

He heard a whoop from the other end of the line. "Oh that's great, Mar'! Congratulations!" Ryou sounded as happy as him. "What exactly do you have to do?"

Marik recalled what Kisara had told him he would be doing after she had seen his painting. "The company is opening a new gallery somewhere across town in a few months and they want to showcase some art from an unknown artist. They want ten paintings produced to a theme of 'Important Things in Life' and they're going to be the main part of the gallery when it opens!"

"That's wonderful, I'm so happy for you!" Ryou said. "I'll not be back until late afternoon because I've got a study session but we'll find a way to celebrate when I'm back."

"Sounds great," Marik replied. "I'll get something nice from the shops too."

"This is amazing, Mar', I knew you could do it! You're way too good an artist to not make it."

Marik laughed. "I wouldn't go that far but thanks anyway, Ry."

"Don't mention it," Ryou said, chuckling. "I have to go now, I'm supposed to be in class, but I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," Marik said happily before hanging up. He had done it. He'd got the commission and he was actually going to get some recognition for his work. The day couldn't get any better.

Putting his phone in his pocket the Egyptian headed towards the town centre where the shops were, thinking he could get Ryou some creampuffs for being so supportive of him and wondering what else he should get for them to celebrate with. It wasn't a particularly long walk, but being so hyped up Marik made it there in record time.

He grabbed a basket as he entered the supermarket and headed up and down the aisles, half concentrating on what he was buying, half thinking about the commission. What were his paintings going to be of? How long could he spend on each piece? And of course, what new materials would he buy with the funding from the company? He could now get the highest quality paints and brushes if he wished, which he had been wanting ever since he had started out painting.

He found the creampuffs for Ryou, along with some ingredients to make Koshari later, including rice, lentils and onions. It had been a while since Mark had eaten his favourite meal, from a street vendor in Egypt just before he left, so he was quite keen to make it himself again. He also managed to find the items on Ryou's list, and by the time he made it to the check-out he was wondering how he'd be able to carry it all.

After paying for the items Marik picked up the four bags he had accumulated and struggled out of the door into the sunlight. He really should have thought this through, he thought as he began the long walk home. The bags were heavy and threatened to overbalance him, and they caused quite a bit of a distraction as he tried not to hit anyone with them.

Within five minutes his arms were aching, so he didn't appreciate when someone barged into him and caused him to drop two of the bags, their contents rolling across the pavement. Marik was about to yell at the culprit when he realised who it was.

"Bakura?"

The white haired man was indeed right in front of him, looking rather warily at Marik, as though he as a bomb that might go off at any moment.

"Marik," he said quietly before bowing his head. On closer inspection Marik could see that the taxi driver didn't look too good. He had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept for a week, and his hair was a lot wilder than Marik remembered. He also had some fading bruises on his jawline and his knuckles seemed red. He had obviously got into a few fights recently.

Before Marik could examine Bakura any further the latter moved and began to pick up the items that were scattered across the pavement, turning away as though ashamed. Marik quickly bent to help him, silently cursing when he saw that the bag of rice had split open on impact. The last item on the ground was an onion, which they both reached for at the same time. Their fingers brushed for a second and Marik felt Bakura tense beside him before he pulled his hand away quickly, allowing Marik to pick up the vegetable and put it in the bag.

Bakura stood as Marik picked up the heavy bags once more, and they stood awkwardly for a second or two, not making eye contact.

I'm sorry," Bakura said suddenly.

Marik, thinking he was talking about the fallen groceries, said, "Don't worry about it, it's only the rice that got damaged."

The white haired man took a deep breath. "No, I mean about what happened a few months ago with Mariku. I was an idiot to think he was safe to be left alone with someone so fragile, I should have stopped him. I feel awful about it, I haven't been able to stop thinking…" A pause. Then, "Is he alright?"

Marik was shocked. The last thing he had expected from the usually annoying man was an apology. Carefully he said, "Ryou's fine now." He emphasised the 'now' for some reason. Perhaps to tell Bakura that no, Ryou had not been fine up until a week ago.

Bakura nodded, still not looking directly at Marik.

"I haven't spoken to Mariku properly since it happened," he said quietly. "I punched him in the face right after you left, and ever since that he's been avoiding me. I don't even know what's going on in his head right now, but I know he's pretty messed up so I would be careful if I was you."

At this Bakura raised his head and looked directly at Marik. "I've never apologised to anyone before."

It was a raw statement, and Marik could tell the man was telling the truth. Bakura had fixed his gaze on Marik almost defiantly, and the Egyptian could tell that somehow, Bakura had changed. And perhaps against his better judgement, Marik decided to give Bakura a second chance.

"I don't suppose you'd help me carry some of this stuff home, would you?" he asked, indicating the heavy bags. It was pretty lame as chances go, but it would be enough to let Bakura know Marik was alright with talking to him again.

Bakura smiled slightly, a small upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it was enough for Marik to know he understood his decision. The white haired man nodded and reached out to grab the two bags in Marik's left hand before they set off down the street.

"What happened to your jaw?" Marik asked carefully after a moment. "Did you get into a fight or something?"

Bakura smiled wryly. "You could say that. Some idiot thought they could steal my wallet without me noticing so I put him straight." Now he wasn't apologising Marik could sense the man's usual attitude returning, and to his surprise he found he'd missed it. "How's life going with you?"

Marik sighed. That was a particular maze he didn't want to get lost in. "Well Ryou's been having a lot of friends over lately but that's kind of stopped, and I just got accepted for an art project with Ka Corporation." Despite himself Marik felt himself smiling again at the thought of his recently acquired commission.

"That's not half bad you know," Bakura said. "You must be pretty good to get work there."

Marik smiled and shrugged modestly. "It was actually due to the other interview I had, the one you drove me to a few months ago?"

Bakura nodded for him to continue, but Marik was struck by a sudden thought.

"Actually there was something I wanted to ask you about that…"

"And what would that be?"

Taking a deep breath Marik said, "Why did you offer to wait for me after the interview even though you'd been distracting me for the whole journey? At the time I thought you were mocking me but now I don't know…" He had to stop himself before he revealed how much Bakura's kindness had affected him at the club a few months ago when Marik had had his breakdown.

Bakura bowed his head as he walked, as though thinking of the best way to answer the question. "I'm not sure myself," he said eventually, as they waited for the lights to change so they could cross the road. "I guess even then I was interested in you and I wanted to know how you had done. I wasn't mocking you." He spoke quietly as though ashamed, though Marik couldn't think for the life of him why. It was almost as though Bakura had been brought up to care for nobody but himself.

Once they were across the road Marik realised what Bakura had actually said.

"What do you mean you were interested in me 'even then'?"

At this Bakura fixed Marik with a piercing look. "I mean that on the night we met in the bar I became even more interested in you, and then Mariku managed to fuck it up."

Marik stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, wary but intrigued. "Define 'interested'."

Bakura, realising Marik had stopped, turned and walked back to him, stopping very close to the Egyptian. Bakura's russet eyes were searching his face as though looking for answers, and it was all Marik could do to keep his breathing even. He had no idea why Bakura was affecting him like this, for he had never had this reaction to anyone or anything before.

After a few seconds, though it felt like forever, Bakura took a small step back and said, "I don't know. I really don't."

Then he turned and continued walking, leaving Marik no choice but to hurry after him. They finished the journey in silence, and only spoke once they had entered the apartment.

"Nice place you have here," Bakura commented as Marik began putting his purchases away.

"Technically it's Ryou's," Marik replied as he heard Bakura head down towards the living room. "Do you want a drink at all?"

"Sure, whatever's going," Bakura half-shouted back. Marik smiled. He had never met anyone like Bakura before: he seemed free and not tied down to anything, and it felt like a breath of fresh air for Marik. As he started making tea- Bakura was British after all- he thought back to the unreadable look on the man's face as he searched Marik's face earlier. Marik wasn't sure what to make of it, and neither did Bakura, so it seemed. He decided to roll with it, and to hell with the consequences for the time being.

With this in mind he finished making the tea and went through to the living room, where he found Bakura sprawled across the room's only sofa.

"Here you go," Marik said, setting the tea down on the little table and raising an eyebrow at his guest. "Are you going to sit like that for the rest of your visit?"

"Perhaps," Bakura smirked.

"Oh come on, you're not a very good houseguest are you?"

"Nope," Bakura replied, but moved his legs so Marik could sit down anyway.

"So what were you doing out today before you knocked my shopping out of my hands?" Marik asked once he had reclaimed his part of the sofa.

"Not much," Bakura said with a sigh. "I had a day off so I decided to go for a walk. Normally I head towards Mariku's but that's obviously not an option."

"Ah." Marik nodded, not wanting to press the subject further. Instead he said the first thing that came into his head. "Why did you get fired from your last job?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a random question, Marik. Why do you want to know?"

Blushing, the Egyptian looked down at his lap. "I guess I just want to know why you act like you do."

"Meaning?"

Marik looked up, expecting the other male to be angry, but there was only curiosity in his eyes. "Well," he began, "You didn't seem too bothered about losing jobs, even when I threatened to get you fired, so there must be a reason for you thinking like that and I guess I was just interested…"

He trailed off as Bakura's eyes grew harder. "That's a rather long story to tell, I'm afraid."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Bakura looked down at the floor as though lost in thought, and Marik instantly felt guilty for bringing up obviously painful memories.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Nah, it's fine," Bakura said, looking up again. "It's just that in twenty one years I've never told anyone that story, so I'd rather not break that streak if you know what I mean."

Marik nodded. Bakura was obviously talking about his childhood: Marik dimly remembered Bakura telling him at the bar how his past wasn't exactly nice. Well, that was common to both of them.

A slightly awkward silence fell on them, Bakura staring out of the window and Marik being fascinated with the floor.

"I'm going to get a drink," Marik said, thinking Bakura may want a moment alone. The white haired man nodded in acknowledgement as Marik stood and went into the kitchen, where he ran himself a glass of water. He hoped Bakura wouldn't begrudge his stupidity. What had he been thinking asking about Bakura's past when it was obviously painful? Marik cursed under his breath in Arabic.

He finished his water and tentatively headed back into the living room, to find Bakura sprawled across the sofa as he had been earlier, a nonchalant look on his face that was ready to turn into a smirk at any moment. Yep, Bakura had recovered from Marik's idiocy and had stolen his place to boot.

"Really?" Marik asked as he leaned on the doorframe. "You're going to be a bad houseguest again?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps not," Marik retorted before smirking to himself.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? I'm not moving." Bakura's grin widened, so Marik decided to do the only direct option.

He sat heavily on Bakura's legs.

"Hey, I need those!" came the indignant cry.

"Should have thought of that before you took the whole sofa, shouldn't you," Marik said primly from his rather uncomfortable position on Bakura's lower half.

Growling, Bakura tried to unseat Marik by wriggling his legs, but the latter only laughed and used his hands to pin the former's feet as well.

"Hmph, if that's how you're going to play it," Bakura muttered before jolting his knees upwards sharply, causing Marik to cry out and fall sideways onto Bakura, who braced himself for the extra weight.

"Why hello there," he said sarcastically to Marik, whose face was currently planted in Bakura's chest. "Having fun down there?"

Marik lifted his head up to glare at Bakura, who raised an eyebrow in return.

"You stole my sofa," Marik said, pouting slightly. "It's very rude of you, you know."

Before Bakura could reply Marik grabbed his arms and pulled them both off the sofa, succeeding in banging into the coffee table and coming out on top of his guest. Bakura struggled to get free but Marik grabbed him by the arms and grinned. "Nobody steals my sofa."

He tried to get off Bakura but the second he let go of his arms Bakura grabbed Marik round the waist and dragged him back down, trying to roll them over so he could retake to sofa. The resulting position caused Marik to blush suddenly when he felt where Bakura's knee was.

They were almost in an embrace, Bakura refusing to let go lest Marik retake the sofa, and Marik's arms were on the floor as though he was about to start doing press ups. Marik's head was once again planted against Bakura's chest, which meant he couldn't see so his other senses were heightened. Their legs had tangled and now Bakura was pushing onto a very personal spot, which unfortunately, to Marik's chagrin, appeared to be responding.

"Let go of me," he hissed desperately. "Get off."

"Never," Bakura whispered back. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Marik tried to wriggle free but only succeeded in making the situation worse. His blush increased and he was glad Bakura couldn't see his face.

"Get the fuck off me or I swear to God…"

Bakura was unaffected by the threat if his lack of movement was anything to go by.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

Marik, who by this time was trying to inch away from Bakura's invading knee without drawing attention to it, bit back a moan and raised his head to look for an excuse. To his great relief he quickly found one.

"Because you knocked your bloody tea onto the floor," he said quickly, trying to make the sentence sound like a threat instead of a plea.

It was true: their impact with the coffee table had knocked the cup sideways and now brown liquid was dripping onto the floor. Ryou was going to be pissed.

The white haired man turned his head to the side. "So I did," he remarked.

"That means you need to let go of me so we can clean it up," Marik growled in frustration.

"But we were having so much fun," Bakura whispered, which didn't help Marik's predicament at all. In fact the quiet words went straight to his groin, and he was terrified that Bakura was going to notice it any second.

"C-come on, let me up!" Marik cursed the stutter in his voice.

"No."

"Fuck you!"

"Was that a request there?"

"What? No!"

"Sure sounded like one."

"Piss off."

Marik's knees were shaking by this point from the strain of keeping Bakura's knee away from him, and the longer they lay there the harder it was getting to stay away. He had to do something that didn't involve swearing, fast.

"Look, I need to clean up the mess there or Ryou is going to kill us when he gets back, which will be at any moment. So I suggest you let me go or face the wrath of my housemate!" Marik tried to make the statement sound threatening but again it came out as more of a plea.

Finally, however, Bakura relented, even though he made a great show of chuckling as he did so.

Marik shot off the floor and ran towards the kitchen, saying something about wet kitchen towel as he went. Once he had gained the sanctuary of the kitchen he risked a look at his pants. Yep, there was no way he'd be hiding that from Bakura any longer- he wouldn't have been surprised if the other man had already noticed.

'I bet he knew right from the start,' Marik thought bitterly as he thought of the best way to get to the bathroom without any awkward questions. He was still thinking this through when Bakura entered the kitchen quietly.

"Need a hand with your problem, Marik?"

Marik jumped at the euphemism before making a show of grabbing some kitchen towel, thanking Ra that his back was towards the man. He wet the towel before replying.

"Yeah, go and start getting the stain out of the carpet," he said, turning his top half to throw the towel at Bakura, who caught it and raised his eyebrows.

"And what are you going to do?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

"I'm going to the bathroom and then I'll come and help you," Marik said, pleased that his voice had come out steady.

Bakura smirked slightly before shrugging and leaving. Marik breathed a sigh of relief before rushing towards the safety of the bathroom. Once there he locked the door and leant against it.

What the hell had that been about? Why had his body responded like that? He had no clue what was going on, other than the fact he now had a raging erection and Bakura was the cause of it. Sighing guiltily, Marik tried to think of the most awfully disgusting things he could to make it go away, but his mind kept wandering back to the white haired man currently in his living room.

Dammit, he didn't even know if he was gay or not!

Seeing no other way to get rid of it quickly other than a cold shower, Marik guiltily unbuckled his pants and let them slide to the floor as he grasped his member. He moved his hand in quick strokes, all the while trying not to make a noise in case he alerted Bakura. After a few minutes he came in his hand, letting out a stifled moan as he did so.

Quickly he washed his hands and pulled his pants back on, only then realising who he had been thinking of through the whole thing. Stupid annoying taxi driver…

Once again Marik found himself cursing in his native language as he dried his hands and went to the door. On opening it, however, he realised he should probably have been more discreet.

Bakura was stood leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, a smirk firmly planted on his face and his eyebrows raised to his hairline.

"Need a hand, Marik?" he chuckled, as the Egyptian turned bright red.

"H-how long have you been there?" he asked quickly as he exited the bathroom, closing the door rather firmly behind him and heading down the hall back to the living room.

"Long enough," Bakura replied. "I cleaned up and got bored so thought I'd come and see what was keeping you."

Marik could practically hear the grin through Bakura's voice.

"Well it's rude to spy on people, you know."

"Oh believe me, I know," Bakura said. "Though if you were being innocent you would have no worries about people listening in on you."

"Oh shut up," Marik growled as he sat on the sofa before Bakura could steal it again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Bakura said casually as he took the rest of the sofa. "Not at all."

The Egyptian tried to resist swearing at Bakura in Arabic, but failed miserably. He was beyond embarrassed and annoyed at the man, yet for some reason he wasn't kicking him out. Marik had to vent his emotions one way or another, so he coloured the air with words he knew the British turned Japanese man wouldn't understand. After the stream of curses had died down he risked a look at Bakura, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Interesting," he remarked.

"Whatever," Marik said grumpily.

"You do know that I can speak Arabic, right?"

"What?"

"Yep. I understood every word. Especially the part about me being a 'stupid distracting arsehole'. I liked that bit."

Marik, who had hid his head in his hands, slowly lowered them, expecting to see Bakura looking angry. Instead he was met by an expression of amusement on the other man's face, as though he was about to burst into laughter at any second.

"Although the rest of it was quite good too, you really have a way with words, Marik."

Bakura's grin widened as he saw how red Marik's face was. He was practically a blonde tomato.

"I didn't know you could speak Arabic," Marik mumbled, all earlier rage gone now.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, isn't there?"

"I guess so."

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Bakura said, "Well that could be changed, I suppose."

It was quite an offhand remark, and had it been anyone else Marik would have brushed it off almost instantly. But he was intrigued as to what Bakura was suggesting. Was he saying that he wanted to get to know Marik better? No, surely he would be too proud to admit anything like that... Then what had he meant? And what would Marik say in response?

It seemed that he had thought about it for too long. Bakura looked away and shifted slightly on the sofa- the moment had passed. Perhaps the words had more meaning than Bakura let on.

Marik had to say something, but what? He was about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when there was the sound of the door opening down the hall. Ryou was home and _Marik still hadn't said anything._

"I'm back,Mar'!" Ryou called down the hall cheerfully.

"In the living room," Marik called back, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Bakura didn't look away from the window at the noise, nor did he move when Ryou's footsteps came towards the living room where they were sat. It was only when the teen came through the door that Bakura turned to face him, expression unreadable.

"Oh, hi there," Ryou said, smiling. "I didn't know we had a guest, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I was just leaving." Bakura's voice was quite flat and he didn't look at Marik as he got off the sofa and made to exit the room.

"H-hey, wait!" Marik said, causing both white haired males to look at him in surprise.

"Uh, one second," he said quickly before rushing into the kitchen, leaving Bakura and Ryou to look after him in confusion.

Paper, he had to find paper and a pen. He had to do something! He didn't know why but he couldn't just let Bakura walk out of the door because he might never come back. Marik might never see him again and Bakura would leave thinking Marik wasn't interested in the slightest. The thought made him strangely uncomfortable. There was some sort of connection there- other than Ryou and his siblings Marik had never been close to anyone before, nor had he ever had a wish to. But now? He was a long way off rom trusting Bakura of course, but there was something between them that needed to be explored. Bakura couldn't leave now!

Desperately he searched for something to write on, and finally found a scrap of paper on which he quickly wrote his mobile number with a pencil he found in one of his pockets. Before he could think things through properly he hurried back into the living room.

To his relief Bakura was still there, and even though Marik had only been gone for a minute he seemed to have struck up a conversation with Ryou. As Marik watched from the doorway he saw Bakura say something quietly to Ryou, who gave a small smile and nodded. Watching the interaction gave Marik a sudden pang of jealously, even though he knew he had no claim to either of them, but he brushed it off in favour of clearing his throat quietly.

Ryou and Bakura stepped away from each other, Ryou blushing slightly and Bakura back to his unreadable expression.

"I'll… I have something to sort out," Ryou said vaguely, sensing his presence was unwanted. "It was nice meeting you, Bakura." The small teen smiled as he left the room quietly, leaving Bakura and Marik in a rather awkward silence.

"Um," Marik said. "Here."

He walked forward and held out the scrap of paper to Bakura, who looked at him oddly before taking it.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked after a couple of seconds.

Marik nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You sure?"

Marik nodded again.

"'Cos I'm not the nicest person to hang around with, you know."

"I know."

"Just warning you."

Marik thought for a moment before saying, "You'll have to tell me that story one day, I think."

"Hm?"

"The one you haven't told anyone before."

"Perhaps I will," Bakura said, smiling slightly. "If you tell me yours in return. I don't do things for nothing."

"And I know there's a reason for that," Marik said quietly.

He looked down at the floor as he said it, so he failed to see the flash of emotion that crossed Bakura's face.

Later, when Bakura had left and he and Ryou had celebrated Marik's new commission, the Egyptian found himself lying in bed once again thinking about the white haired man. Why did he act the way he did? Something must have made him become the cynical bitter person he claimed to be now, and Marik would be damned if he didn't find out.

But was he willing to share his own past with someone who wasn't Ryou or his family?

His phone buzzed on his bedside table, indicating a text.

'_My shift ends at 5 tomorrow, you going to be home?'_

Marik smiled despite himself. Yes, he could probably learn to trust Bakura, with time. He knew there was a story beneath the cynical exterior that Bakura would refuse to tell him for some reason, and that was probably the key to understanding him. Marik found himself wanting to understand Bakura. He knew what it was like for nobody to understand him, when they didn't know the events that had occurred in his past to make him the person he was today.

Marik knew it was bad timing: he had his commission to work on which would take up a lot of his time, and he couldn't count on help from Ryou as he had university and work to deal with. He knew that this was the worst time to embark on another challenge, but he didn't care.

'_Yeah, come over any time.'_

There was no going back now.


	8. Alternate Lifestyle

**Hi! I'm back with another chapter. Sorry it's a taken a lot longer than the rest of the uploads but I'm currently into my second full week of university and there's been so much going on, I've literally had no time to do anything else other than uni-related stuff. Of course I would choose to pick the hardest degree full of work and 9am lectures, but hey, who said it was easy?**

**Anyway I've really let the characters run with this one as I said, and I think that really comes out in this chapter. It may be a little different to previous chapters but that's because I was in a down mood when I wrote it so the chapter came out a little angsty. But hey, who doesn't like angsty Bakura?**

**Again I'm not too sure when the next chapter will be out, my schedule doesn't lighten up at all so I'll be concentrating on that more than anything, but like I said I won't be abandoning this story! I'll see it through to the end. I ask for your patience in updating, and as I know you're all here for the chapter I'll leave and let you get on with it!**

**My love to the people who have reviewed, you guys are the inspiring ones! Enjoy.**

_**DustyStars**_

_Chapter 8- Alternate Lifestyle_

'What am I doing?'

The question entered Bakura's head for the hundredth time that day as he left Marik's apartment and began the long journey towards his own home on the other side of town. Honestly, he had no idea why he was acting the way he was around Marik. Normally Bakura was cold and sarcastic at all times, never getting attached, never looking back. So why was he acting different now?

At first he had been teasing: when Marik had first got into his car all those months ago he had been in a good mood and decided to have a bit of fun, but that had progressed now. He knew there was something about Marik that made him different from everyone else, but what?

Bakura knew Marik was different, after all he hadn't had a conventional childhood himself, perhaps this was what drew him to the teenager…

'No,' he thought as he made a left turn towards the rougher end of town. 'It's different. There's something I'm missing.'

Could it be possible that he wanted to get to know Marik more? That was practically unheard of for Bakura. He didn't care for anyone, he went about his own business and didn't interfere with anyone unless they had something he could gain from them. Hell, he only really put up with Mariku because the guy lived so close to his favourite bar and he needed a place to crash after a night out.

So why was he so intrigued with Marik? The question had haunted him for the past three months, even though he had been resigned to the fact that Marik hated him because of Mariku hurting his friend. Honestly Bakura hadn't expected to see Marik again earlier, and certainly hadn't expected Marik to forgive him for his poor judgement.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he had been happy that Marik was speaking to him and actually seemed to want to see him again, and happiness wasn't something Bakura felt very often. Not now. It was an almost foreign feeling, but one he would be happy to experience more of.

Bakura sighed as he turned down a small side street of rather dingy houses, some bordered up and others with smashed windows. He was almost home.

Bakura blamed his state of living on his inability to hold down a job. He had told Marik he didn't care what happened to him or where he went, and it was true. Because Bakura knew he had nothing to lose now, and so he wasn't afraid of what life would throw at him. It was a rather liberating feeling actually, knowing that things would never get any worse for him.

Bakura stopped outside a semi-detached house on the left of the street. The upstairs windows had been smashed and roughly bordered up again, and though you couldn't see it from the outside, Bakura knew that the wall separating the interiors of the house had been knocked down to allow for more space inside.

It was his home after all.

It was starting to get dark now, and all over the city lights would be coming on in the windows of houses. But Bakura knew no light would shine in this house. The building had long since been cut off from electricity and water, in fact the whole street had been scheduled for demolition a few months back, but the town planning department was thankfully terrible at organisation and hadn't got round to it yet. The authorities knew Bakura and the others lived there, but as long as they kept out of trouble, they didn't seem to care.

Yes, there were others like him, teenagers and twenty-something year olds who couldn't live anywhere else. They had either been abandoned, or kicked out, or had nowhere else to go, and one way or another they ended up in this house, surrounded by others just like them. It was almost ideal. They didn't have to pay rent or bills, in fact the only contribution they had to make was a small monetary one to the leader of the group, who used it to pay for essentials such as food and equipment for heating food and water, which they got in bottles.

It was only one step up from living on the streets, but it was a hell of a lot safer, and as Bakura tended to squander most of his money on alcohol, it was the only thing he could afford. Besides, Akefia dealt with pretty much everything, and the others that lived there mostly kept themselves to themselves, which was just how Bakura liked it.

To many of them, this house was their sole means of survival.

Bakura sighed again as he headed up the overgrown path to the front door, which was unlocked, for everyone knew there was nothing to steal here. Pushing it open he was greeted by the familiar sight of the open plan living room.

As it was evening, most of the residents were down here instead of out doing work, either sat around the large fire that constantly burned in the fireplace, or moving around the kitchen preparing food for the rest of them.

Akefia kept everyone on a rota for jobs to keep everything running, albeit a lax one, though Bakura was exempt from most of these jobs as Akefia's second. The leader of the group was the oldest resident, and had been living in the house since he was a teenager himself. He was tall, tanned, and had a natural air of authority that made people obey without question. Nobody knew much about his past, but that was mostly because people were afraid to ask questions.

Questions were not welcome here.

People would come here when there was nowhere else for them to go, and it was an unspoken rule that no matter what background they came from, no matter what their past, they would be accepted without prejudice. That was what made it an ideal place for Bakura. He still remembered when Akefia had brought him here all those years ago, given him food, warmth, and shelter when nobody else would. No questions asked. Bakura had been in a bad place back then, and he owed everything to the leader of the group.

Akefia was without a doubt one of the most intimidating people Bakura knew, yet he was also kind. A strange combination.

Pulling himself away from that particular train of thought Bakura looked around the room, hoping to see the tall man, but he was nowhere in sight. There were a group of younger kids sat in the corner playing some sort of card game, some older kids sat around the fire, and the rest seemed to be making some sort of soup. It seemed that Akefia, Atem and the others he normally spoke to weren't going to make an appearance any time soon, so Bakura crossed the room and headed for the stairs.

As he went he felt several pairs of eyes on his back, but he ignored them. The younger kids Akefia brought off the streets were always the inquisitive sort. Most were either orphans or had run away from home, so Bakura could only assume that they were curious as to what a normal life was like. Hah, as if he could tell them! He may look pretty efficient and normal to the untrained eye, but Bakura knew he had never quite been the same since… No, it would not do to dwell on the past.

Angry at himself for thinking such things the white haired man climbed the stairs quickly, emerging at one end of a long corridor that ran all the way around the edges of the house in a square. Akefia had told him that when he first moved into the house part of the upstairs had collapsed, so now there was a large hole in the floor that afforded a view of the downstairs area, with the corridor almost like a gallery above it. Doors were situated regularly along the corridor, and behind each of them was a room that was shared by at least two people to save space.

Bakura was lucky in the fact that he had his own room in the corner, which was about as private as one could get in a layout like this one. The only other person that had his own room was Akefia, which was a given seeing as he was the one who founded the house. Feeling curious eyes still on him, Bakura headed along the corridor until he reached his room, which did have a lock on it, unlike the front door. After finding his key he headed into his room, closing and locking the door behind him.

It was a modest room, rather small, and had probably been a spare bedroom at some point in the past. There was a mattress and some blankets on the floor in the corner that served as a bed, a chair and a battered desk by the small window and a few shelves that held Bakura's modest possessions. The thing he liked most about this room was that it was his space. Nobody could come in here without Bakura's permission, and though he may share the rest of the house with twenty or so other people, this was only place in the world Bakura could call his and his alone.

Bakura headed over to the mattress, shedding his coat and putting it on the chair as he went. Looking around the room, he supposed many people would despair of his situation, probably calling it poverty or deprivation, but Bakura had never thought of it that way. He rather liked where he lived, the fact that nobody bothered him and as long as he kept out of serious trouble he could go on living here quite happily.

He wondered what Marik would think if he knew about Bakura's situation.

'He'd wash his hands of me,' Bakura thought bitterly. 'He wouldn't want anything to do with anyone who can't even afford the cheapest apartment for himself.'

Bakura pulled the small scrap of paper from his pocket and looked at the number on it again. Would it really be wise to get to know Marik better? To let the Egyptian know of how he lived and how he had ended up in such a situation? He didn't want to drag the teen into something he might not be able to get out of… Did Bakura really want to put Marik in danger? Because when you lived with the people Bakura knew, there was always the worry of someone stabbing you in the back. Sometimes for no reason. Trust was a hard thing to come by.

Sighing, Bakura pulled his phone from his pocket and began to write a text. It was a cheap, battered thing that was pretty much the only thing he had ever saved up for in his whole life, but it still worked fine and Bakura hadn't regretted spending the money on it.

'_My shift ends at 5 tomorrow, you going to be home?'_

Bakura inputted the number on the paper and pressed send before he could think any more about it. If Marik truly wanted to get to know him then Bakura shouldn't worry himself about what Marik would think of his situation.

Before Bakura could dwell any more on the subject there was a knock on his door. The white haired man sighed. The kids in the house knew better than to disturb him, and the older ones only came to him when something needed doing.

Standing and crossing the room Bakura unlocked his door and opened it. He was greeted by the sight of crimson eyes and spiky, unruly hair.

"Hey, Atem."

"Hey." On closer inspection the tanned housemate looked rather worse for wear, and Bakura would have put money on him and Akefia having spent the evening stealing from the houses in the surrounding area.

Atem was another enigma. He had joined the house only a few months after Bakura himself, not a word about his past, and had remained there even when his monetary status didn't demand it any more. Bakura never asked why Atem stayed even though he had a stable job and relationship outside of the house, but he often found himself wondering about the other man's motives.

Unfortunately, he and Atem often didn't see eye to eye, causing too many disputes for them to be anything more than tolerating of each other. Bakura couldn't understand why Atem remained even though he had a better future within his grasp, and Atem resented Bakura for spending all his money on fuelling his drinking habits.

"You and 'Kef been out again?" Bakura asked, and Atem simply snorted in reply.

"You know us too well, Bakura. We're actually planning a heist on KaibaCorp at the moment, though you didn't hear it from me, of course."

"Interesting."

"You want to join us? I'm sure we can find something for you to do."

"I'd rather not."

"Thought you wouldn't."

Bakura glared at Atem. The bastard knew he had no interest in his illegal activities, preferring to work alone, yet here Atem was offering him a job he would never accept.

Leaning against the doorframe Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Is there a particular reason you're here or are you just wanting to piss me off? Because if you are then you're doing a great job of it."

The tan man held his hands up in mock surrender and laughed. "No need to be so rude, I'm just a messenger. Akefia wants to see you for some reason, says it's urgent. He's been pretty distracted all evening though, so it might be something important."

"And he couldn't come himself because…?"

"I dunno." Atem was already turning away, duty done. He often went out of his way to avoid Bakura, so he'd been pretty put out when Akefia had ordered him to seek out the sour-faced Brit. "Just get on with it."

Sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Bakura locked his door behind him and proceeded down the corridor towards the stairs. He had a horrible feeling he wasn't going to like the imminent conversation with the tall ex-Egyptian.

Once he reached ground level, again ignoring the stares that followed him, he headed towards the far corner of the house, where a single room was situated. Normally off limits to all other residents, Bakura knocked on the leader's door.

"Yeah."

Bakura pushed open the door, and was greeted by the sight of Akefia sat behind a rather large desk that took up at least half the room. The other half was occupied by a bed and a chest of drawers, which probably held more of the stolen goods that littered the desk.

"Hey, 'Kura."

"Hey. Atem said you wanted to talk to me?"

Bakura was often careful around Akefia. Most of the time the man treated him like his best friend, as an equal, a brother, but there were times when he was prone to rage and anger, and it was these times where nobody was safe around him. Bakura felt pretty safe at the moment though, Akefia hadn't had an anger attack for a few months now and he was obviously in a good mood if the gold on his desk was anything to go by.

"Yeah, I need to talk to you about the running of the house."

Oh, shit.

"W-what?" Bakura knew where this was heading, and he didn't like it at all.

Sensing Bakura's discomfort Akefia smiled slightly. "I'm going to be leaving soon, Bakura. I've done all I can here and I think we both know I can't stay here forever. You're my second, you have to take over."

Bakura stared, dumbstruck. This wasn't happening to him! Not now, not when he finally had a chance to actually get to know somebody as more than just a friend! If he had to take over here then he'd never be able to leave…

"How long?" he asked quietly, trying not to betray his emotions through his voice.

"I don't know yet. Soon though."

"Soon…"

Akefia looked at him sympathetically, able to read the emotions on Bakura's face as easily as a book. He really didn't want to do this to Bakura right now, but he knew the time had come for him to leave this world behind and start over. It was painful but necessary.

Akefia bowed his head, running a hand through his silver hair and closing his eyes. Truth be told he honestly expected Bakura to stay in the house for the whole of his life. The white haired man had a bad drinking habit that Akefia had sometimes tried to talk him out of, but he was never able to make Bakura see sense. If the habit persisted Akefia could never see Bakura making enough money to be able to move out or make anything of himself.

Not to mention that Bakura's social skills were severely lacking, so he couldn't count on the white haired man ever becoming close enough to anyone for them to share their life with him.

"Why now?"

Akefia looked up and was surprised to see that Bakura looked angry and hurt. He had expected no trouble in passing the leadership over to his second, yet here he was looking as though he was one step away from rejecting it.

"You're the only one that can," he said carefully. "Everyone here knows you and you've been my second ever since you came here. It has to be you."

Bakura took a deep breath, trying to block out the roaring in his ears. Finally he might have found an opportunity to get out and Akefia was right here telling him to forget it! "How come you never mentioned this before? I've not heard a single thing about this until now and all of a sudden you're leaving and in doing so tying me to this house and these people for the next few years at least!"

Akefia could tell Bakura was getting angry, though for the life of him he couldn't work out why. He would have thought Bakura would like to be the one in charge here!

"You know I can't do it, 'Kef," Bakura continued, his voice raising. "You know the others look at me as though I'm some sort of museum exhibit, you know none of them talk to me because I shut them all out! I don't know the first thing about taking care of anyone other than myself and I sure as hell don't want to be stuck here for the rest of my life! I finally have something good happen to me in my miserable life and you want to take it away from me by tying me down to this house?"

Akefia snapped.

"You owe everything to this house, Bakura. Everything! Without me and this house you would be on the streets just like you were when I found you! The least you can do is repay me by allowing me to have the freedom I never had!"

Akefia stood, glaring at Bakura as though daring his second to retaliate.

"You want your freedom at the expense of mine! You're going to leave those kids out there with someone they barely know and are probably scared of, when they actually trust you to look after them!" Bakura was glaring at Akefia now, hands curled into fists, but he wasn't finished yet.

"You're acting like you don't give a shit about them, you know. You've always said you do what's best for them, but you know when you leave this whole house will collapse. You know I'm barely at home in the day and only come back a few evenings a week! You know I have a fucking drinking habit and you really think it's wise for you to leave me in charge of people who have nobody else to look after them? No way in hell!"

"Bakura, think about what you're saying!" Akefia shouted. "They need someone to care for them and I just can't do it anymore! I need to have my own life! I know you can help them!" There was a slight pause. "It's not like you have anywhere else to go, Bakura!"

Bakura who had been about to shout a retort, stopped dead.

"What?" His voice was deadly low, and Akefia knew that somehow, he had struck a nerve.

"You know it's true, Bakura," he said quietly. "You'll never have enough money to afford your own place, and you don't have anyone outside the-"

"SHUT UP!"

Bakura was one step away from murdering everyone in the building. He would have probably done it too, if it wouldn't cause unpleasant consequences such as jail. He guessed his homicidal thoughts were showing on his face because Akefia backed up slightly and actually shut up.

Breathing heavily, Bakura lowered his head and attempted to control his anger, which was no easy task. After a few moments, he felt able to speak again.

"You don't know anything about me, Akefia. All you know is that I have no family, and you think that gives you the right to tell me how alone I am? You think I don't know that? You make me sick." Bakura's voice was shaking now, and he knew that if he didn't leave soon then he'd do something he may later come to regret.

"As it turns out though, I do have people I know outside this house. So you're wrong aren't you? You're wrong about me, Akefia. I'm not going to stay here and do your job for you."

Bakura turned to leave before Akefia could think of anything to say in return.

"You can leave if you want, 'Kef, but I'm not going to stay and pick up the pieces for you. You're not the only one that wants their life back."

Bakura left the room before Akefia could stop him, slamming the door with more force than necessary, and, ignoring the shocked faces surrounding him, headed straight for the front door.

Without a backward glance, Bakura left the house he had lived in for years and headed out into the night.


End file.
